


I Know It Sounds Crazy

by fragilecapricornpanic



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 1963, Angst, Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dallas - Freeform, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves-centric, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gaslighting, Gen, Humor, Hurt Diego Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Institutions, Minor Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Canon, Reginald Hargreeves Bashing, Season/Series 02, Spoilers, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, Time Travel, Whump, lila pitts - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 32,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilecapricornpanic/pseuds/fragilecapricornpanic
Summary: A look into what life was like for Diego in the mental institution, before the canon events of season 2. Kennedy, Lila, abusive conditions, and the long-overdue therapy... what lead to the difference between 2019 Diego, and 1963 Diego?
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Lila Pitts, Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts
Comments: 74
Kudos: 206





	1. Pillow Prison

**Author's Note:**

> Once I finish this I’d like to write some more pre-canon season 2, which sibling would you most like to see?! Pls lemme know

Diego was unfortunately used to being in handcuffs, such was the life of a vigilante with a cop for an ex. Diego’s stomach twisted. He really needed to stop thinking about Eudora... anyway, handcuffs were one thing, but a straight jacket, that was another thing entirely. He couldn’t fully remember how he’d even gotten here, his memory was hazy and melted. He sure as shit remembered that colossal fucking needle though. He couldn’t tell what part of how he felt was due to time travel, and what was due to the events of the last 12 hours or so he’d had in whenever the hell he was. Honestly, he had thought this kinda shit was just in the movies. A padded cell, really? 

The harsh sound of a key unlocking the door to his pillowy prison made him flinch; jumping like that made his headache intensify. Diego winced his eyes shut as the door opened, trying to block the too bright light from hitting his sensitive vision. Two extremely large orderlies barged in and dragged him to his feet from behind. “Wh- where am I going?” Diego whispered, his throat dry from intense thirst. That long without water would’ve been a definite human rights violation in 2019 - but he decided not to bother pointing that out. Human rights probably didn’t even exist yet. He dragged his feet along the floor in defiance, which pissed the orderlies off. One kicked his legs out from beneath him, and the other roughly yanked him up from behind like a rag-doll.

“Doctor wants t’see ya.” the bastard who kicked him murmured through a cigarette perched in his mouth. 

Being out of the straight jacket was heavenly, but having pumped up Tweedledum and Tweedledee by either side of him was unsettling. He just now realised he was wearing white scrubs, which was wildly disturbing since he had no memory of putting them on. The doctor looked pretty stereotypical; he wore round glasses, was balding, middle aged, and Caucasian. He looked like he had been mass produced in a factory for vintage psychiatrists.

“You told them in bookin’ that your name was Diego Hargreeves.” Diego nodded, grateful that at least someone had been listening to him last night. The doctor flicked through the papers on his desk, licking his fingers to skim through the sheets. “We ain’t got you on no records, is all.” he drawled. Was this guy a goddamn cowboy, or something? Oh right, _Dallas_. He had forgotten about that. The doctor pulled a pack of smokes from his jacket pocket and popped one in his mouth.

“That’s because I haven’t been born yet.” Diego admitted, he knew it sounded batshit but he didn’t really have much choice. His doctor offered the pack out to Diego, who shook his head. The doctor raised an eyebrow, as though that were the shocking part of the discussion. He shrugged and stuffed the pack back into his pocket, then calmly lit his cigarette with a match. It was remarkable how relaxed the guy was with this revelation, but Diego realised he was used to dealing with people who literally thought they were Jesus. That thought made Diego gulp anxiously. To this doctor, he was just like all the nutjobs in this place. 

The doctor took a long drag from his cigarette. He hadn’t stopped staring at Diego, and it was making him squirm uncomfortably. Every time he moved too much for the liking of the orderlies, they each shoved a heavy hand on to his shoulders. “When were you born then, son?” The doctor finally inquired, sounding more apathetic than he probably should.

Diego looked down at the floor. This wasn’t going to end well. “N-nineteen-eighty-nine.” he whispered cautiously. His doctor picked up a fountain pen from his desk and began to jot down in his notes. Diego tried to shuffle up a tad to peer over and read them, but the assholes behind him had other ideas. 

He placed his pen back down onto his desk. “You ever use narcotics, boy?” He asked as he removed his glasses to polish them with his tie.

“Fuck no.” Diego spat “I’m not a junkie.”, his face was scrunched with offense. His doctor shrugged in response, before blowing on his glasses and returning to his polishing.

“Uh huh, and how is it you came from what...” he paused to look up in thought, trying to add Diego’s presumed age to the year 1989 “twen’y-twen’y, give or take, all the way back to nineteen-“ he cut himself off bluntly. A small grin spread across his face as he put his glasses back on arrogantly. “What year is it then, boy?” Diego bit his lip. 

They had been taught in great lengths about US history, but truth be told Diego had never paid all that much attention. He remembered important dates, but that was about it. Plus, he’d been out of the academy for over a decade, his memory of these classes was patchy at best. One of the dates he _could_ remember was 11.22.63. The day Kennedy was assassinated. This could come in handy, but not in any significant way. Diego couldn’t even remember how long Kennedy had been in office when he had been assassinated. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure how many terms he served. So yeah, he’d seen on that TV that Kennedy was president, but that wasn’t massively narrowing things down.

His eyes darted around the office as he tried to frantically make the most reasonable guess about which year he had landed in. Working off the assumption that JFK was likely in his first term, Diego had to guess between ‘60 to ‘63, since he assumed someone wouldn’t have waited until Kennedy’s last year in office to blow his brains out. “Nineteen-sixty...three?” Diego murmured apprehensively. His doctor furiously began taking notes, Diego wasn’t sure if that meant he was right or wrong.

An hour or so had passed, and Diego was feeling progressively more shaky and sick to his stomach. The tranquillisers were working their way out of his system, he supposed. It must’ve been a pretty hefty dose, after all. His doctor, who he had learned was called Dr Nicholson, had steadily made his way through the better half of his pack of cigarettes. Diego wasn’t sure if everyone smoked that much in the ‘60s, or if it was just his way of coping with the nuthouse. “So if your brother...” Nicholson peered down at his many notes, flicking through them to find the list of siblings “the fifty-eight year old, time travelling assassin” he sighed “in the body of a thirteen year old boy?” He glanced up at Diego to check he was correct in his description. Diego supplied a timid nod. Nicholson shuffled slightly in his seat. “So if he’s the one who sent you back here, where’s he at?” Nicholson chewed on his fountain pen with a bemused expression. Diego couldn’t answer that. Nicholson sighed once again, seemingly growing tired of this story. “And how comes your siblings didn’t fall out of the sky w’you?” Once again, Diego couldn’t answer that.

“I- I don’t know.” Diego bashfully admitted. His mouth was so damn dry. Hell, even his brain felt dry. 

Nicholson stood from behind his desk, and traipsed over to rest against the front, crossing one leg over the other. “I think it would be good to keep you here for the time being,” he stubbed his cigarette out in his ornamental ashtray “we don’t want you getting your hands on sharp objects again, now, do we?” Nicholson asked in a way that wasn’t really a question.

”What?!” Diego shouted, shooting up from his chair. The two idiots behind him attempted to restrain him, which he momentarily fought off by harshly elbowing them both in their guts. “I have to leave, I’m not supposed to be here...” he yelled, the orderlies continued attempting to restrain him despite his kicks and shoves. “I need to find them!” He spat out viciously, he was seething. He needed to track them down. They had to be here somewhere. There had to be some deeper meaning to this. It had to be tied to Kennedy. Why else would he land in Dallas at this time?! “They’re going to assassinate the president!” He roared.

The orderlies were growing increasingly violent as Diego fought their restraints. One was behind him grappling his hands, whilst the other was bending down, making to grab his legs. Before he had the chance, Diego kicked the guy behind him in the balls, causing him to double over and yelp. He then lunged at the other with a fist directly to his face, before quickly turning and grabbing the other by his hair. He pulled his head up enough to have access to his stomach, to which he threw a brutal blow. The orderly let out a deep gasp, and began to gag. An alarm had began to blare. He wasn’t even sure where Nicholson had gone. His main priority right now was these two assholes. Diego swivelled to face the other orderly, and jumped up to head-butt him fiercely, causing the orderly to stagger back and bang his head against the frosted glass, office wall.

Though, maybe that hadn’t been his best move, as now his head was spinning from the impact. His eyes were scrunched in agony and he felt himself begin to topple over. Before he knew it, he had been overpowered due to his moment of weakness. He was restrained against Nicholson’s desk, and a sharp pain stung through his arm. Suddenly the world fell into slow motion, and his vision blurred until the world around him was unreadable. Diego vaguely felt himself being shoved from the desk onto the cold linoleum floor, and the several sets of hands pinning him to it. He tried to fight his eyes from closing, though his eyelids grew heavier rapidly. Milliseconds dragged on for hours, until his consciousness was lost against his own will.


	2. Delusions of Grandeur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her little nurse hat looked so hilarious... why did they wear those damn things? “And who the hell are you?” He slurred at the scowling nurse. “I’m not introducing myself to you again Diego. If you cared, you would _pay attention_.” Diego wanted to stab the bitch. He reached a hand for his knife holster but his hand was only met with the crunchy fabric of his white scrubs. “Okay, Nurse Ratchet” he murmured. Nobody laughed. Maybe that hadn’t been made yet, old books and movies weren’t really his forte.

Diego’s head snapped down suddenly, causing his chin to collide with his chest. An overly-forceful hand grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up straight, stinging his hair follicles. Diego blinked his bleary eyes, all he wanted to do was sleep. “You guys are the ones drugging me.” he moaned, disgruntled by his repeated rude awakenings. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been trapped in this shithole. Was he admitted yesterday? Last week? He didn’t know. All the hours had blurred into one fuzzy mess.

“Diego, you know you’re not to speak unless you’re spoken to!” snapped a cross looking nurse sitting at the head of the circle they were sat in. Diego _didn’t_ know he wasn’t to speak unless he was spoken to, since he didn’t even know what the hell was going on. Her little nurse hat looked so hilarious... why did they wear those damn things?

“And who the hell are you?” he slurred at the scowling nurse.

”I’m not introducing myself to you again Diego. If you cared, you would _pay attention_.” Diego wanted to stab the bitch. He reached a hand for his knife holster but his hand was only met with the crunchy fabric of his white scrubs.

“Okay, Nurse Ratchet.” he murmured. Nobody laughed. Maybe that hadn’t been made yet, old books and movies weren’t really his forte. Nurse Bitch sternly turned to the patient sat to her left “so have you learned now that your actions have consequences?” she asked to the terrified looking kid.

Group had dragged on for what felt like days to Diego, and his scalp burned from the amount of times he had been dragged back into consciousness. He was struggling to eat a cup of pudding without spilling it, or missing his mouth, when Nurse Bitch placed a small paper cup on the table in front of him. It contained an assortment of colored pills - some large, some small. He sluggishly looked up to meet her eyes. She was looking down at him with unwarranted aggression. “Are you going to take them yourself, or are we going to have to force you again?” Diego winced remembering them restraining him to a chair and forcing the pills down his throat.

”I’m g-gonna take ‘um m’self.” he drawled, his tongue feeling hard to control. The fact they were forcing him to take more pills when he already felt like a vegetable was deeply concerning.

—

“Delusions o’ grandeur are a very common fantasy in the clinically insane.” Dr Nicholson informed Diego, puffing on a freshly lit cigarette. Diego sighed deeply.

“It’s not a delusion.” he uttered, closing his eyes with irritation. Wow, closing his eyes felt so good... “Ouch!” He yelped as a heavy handed orderly yanked his head awake. Nicholson was unfazed. “I have powers... look I’ll show you!” He wobbled to stand and grab a pen from the doctors desk. The orderlies began to stop him but Nicholson waved a hand at them, telling them to let him do it. He grabbed the fountain pen and wobbled on his feet. Looking around the room, there wasn’t really anything interesting to aim at. There was a calendar on the wall behind the doctor. “Look... I’ll make it do a flip ‘n’ then hit it right ‘n the twen’ny-third box.” he slurred.

Nicholson swivelled in his chair to face the calendar in question. “Be my guest.” he stated, seeming half way between amused, and apathetic. Diego steadied himself, grabbing on to the back of his chair so his legs wouldn’t give way. He shot the pen at the calendar, giving it the motion to flip. Except, it landed 6 feet away from the calendar and did no such flip.

Diego’s mouth dropped open. “I-I-I’ve never missed.” he spluttered out. The shock hit him like a tone of bricks, he hastily slumped back down into his chair and threw his head between his legs.

Was he crazy after all? Had it all been some insane delusion? He couldn’t have invented his _entire life_ right? He’d seen Shutter Island... he knew the brain could concoct elaborate fantasies and memories. He lazily rubbed his hand down his face and groaned. Eudora was real. Mom was real. His family were real. The _moon being blown up_ was real. He’d seen the chunk of moon gliding towards them with his own eyes. He shot his head back up as quick as he could in his drugged up state. “I-I have another power.” he pleaded. Nicholson looked up from the notes he was jotting, and threw Diego a curiously raised eyebrow. “I can hold m’ breath indefinitely.” he drawled. Nicholson sighed and looked back down to continue his writing. “N-no no, look!” Diego yelled. He waited for Nicholson to look back up and catch his eye, and then he covered his nose and mouth with either hand, blocking any airflow. This would prove it, no doubt. 

Diego was awoken by being slammed down onto his creaky metal cot, then restraint straps being secured over his wrists. “What the fuck?” He whispered, more to himself than anyone else. Restraints were now being secured over his ankles. He tried to shake out of them even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to. Hargreeves had taught them how to escape a whole manner of devices, but the tranquilizares had made his thoughts, and movements, dull and slow. He didn’t think he was restrained _that much_ overnight, usually. “Whats with this shit?!” He growled at the orderly securing the straps. 

“Suicide protocol.” the orderly replied, sounding profoundly uninterested. “Suicide?..” Diego thought aloud. Did they drug him again? Had he really tried to kill him self in some drugged up rage? He wouldn’t do that... he wouldn’t! “You tried to suffocate yourself.” the orderly told him as he finished securing the restraints and stood up fully. Diego shot him a firmly confused look. The orderly raised a bemused eyebrow “You got some breath holding superpower, ain’t you remember?” he chuckled, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and popping it in his mouth. These fuckers were going to give Diego goddamn lung cancer from all this secondhand smoke. He groaned and threw his head back onto his flat, uncomfortable pillow. Well shit, his powers don’t work anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish the show characters had the comic powersssss


	3. The New Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego is released from three days of drugged up isolation, and thrown straight back in to the deep end of his 1963 hell-on-Earth. He and the mysterious new girl spark a connection.

“You have to share in group, Diego. That’s how this works.” Nurse Bitch spoke down to him like he was a petulant child, or maybe a dog. Diego rolled his neck, letting out a deep sigh. After three days of complete isolation and mindless drugging, Diego had been thrilled to have been allowed out into the general population of the institution. Little did he know he would simply be restrained to a chair in their communal area. It was a hot and sticky day, and his wrists felt like they were melting in his leather restraints. Mortifyingly, his stammer was back and in full force from the sheer stress of this horrific situation. God, he missed his mom.

“Fine,” Diego growled. “I’ll share.” he said through gritted teeth. It was coming up to their lunch hour, which was when they were given their second dose of medication for the day. This meant the morning dose was making its way out of Diego’s system. It was making him feel shaky and irritable. It was maddening to him how he could feel so drugged that he could barely speak a sentence without all of his words blending into one, yet at the same time feel like he was going to vibrate out of his skin if he didn’t get a dose soon. How did Klaus live like this? “I’ll share how I don’t und’stand how John,” he gestured towards the man in question with his head, causing John to look rather irate. He didn’t like being called by his actual name. “and Richard,” he shifted his head to the man beside him, who didn’t even seem to notice he was the one being talked about. “are _both_ Jesus.” He let out a furious and exasperated cackle. The new woman in the group made a loud snort. 

—

Diego dodged the spoon being shoved at his mouth, he glowered up at the orderly in control of it. “’m not being f-fucking spoon fed like some b-b-” the spoon was forced into his mouth before he could finish his sentence. He viciously spat it back out, right into the face of the bastard. The orderly put down the cup of pudding in one of his hands, and yanked on Diego’s hair - pulling his head all the way back.

“You’ll do what you’re told to do, boy.” he sneered. “I’m not eat’n it!” Diego shouted up at him. “I guess you want force feeding with a tube, huh?” Diego’s eyes lit up with panic, he hadn’t really considered what they would do to him if he refused to eat.

“Will you eat it if I feed you it?” Diego turned his head - as best as he could with that bastard holding it, to locate where this voice was coming from. His eyes fell on the new girl. He and the orderly both paused in bewilderment. The orderly because it was unexpected, but Diego because _he didn’t think she’d be British?!_ “Well?” She asked cockily, looking between Diego and the orderly. “Okay?” And “Whatever, I don’t give a damn who feeds him” were said in unison. The orderly dropped his grip of Diego’s head and shoved the spoon into the girl’s hand. “Fuckin’ nutjobs...” he grumbled as he walked away and lit a cigarette. 

It was humiliating to be fed by a hot girl, but it was less dehumanising than being force fed by an orderly. She was gentle, and smiled at him as she did it. “What are y’fresh off the boat or someth’n?” Diego slurred in between mouthfuls of pudding. The girl paused as she was scooping more onto the spoon to turn and face Diego with a raised eyebrow.

”Bit racist, init?” she deadpanned. Diego’s eyes practically popped out of his skull. “N-no I m-meant from Brit’n!” He squirmed in his chair apologetically. She let out an obnoxiously loud cackle. “I knew what you meant, dickhead.” she supplied him a sly grin. Diego melted back into his seat. 

Nurse Bitch rudely interrupted them by plopping their two paper cups in front of them respectively. Diego knew by now that she forced you to take them in front of her. He rolled his eyes. Diego begrudgingly nodded when the girl picked his cup up and looked over at him. She tipped the cup into his mouth, and he regretfully swallowed. Nurse bitch grabbed his face harshly and turned it up at her. “Tongue!” she demanded, and he flashed her his tongue to prove the medicine was gone. She did the same with the girl, though not as forcefully since she willingly complied.

Thankfully, Nurse Bitch marched away to deliver medicine to the actual crackpots. Diego sighed with relief. Being near that woman was even more infuriating than being near Luther. Her presence set him on edge. The girl tapped his leg, granting his attention. She then held a hand to her mouth and spat. Diego thought she was fucking gross, “Is that the k-kinda shit that got you put in here?” he groaned. She rolled her eyes and called him an idiot, before outstretching her hand. Diego really didn’t want to see this chick’s spit, but maybe the medicine was already kicking in as he complied and looked down. There were _all of her fucking pills_. “H-“ he yelped before she kicked him In the shin and made a shushing gesture. “How d-did you do that?” He whispered, a look of intrigued confusion on his face - and maybe a bit of excitement. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” she winked.

—

Diego had been granted the use of one of his arms so he could assist Lila, the new girl, with her jigsaw. Nurse Bitch had decided he was suitably medicated and wouldn’t pose too much of a risk to have one restraint removed. Over the days it had been becoming easier to stay awake despite the drugs they continued forcing upon him, but it was still nearly impossible to be remotely functional. Every time he closed his eyes it was a difficult task to open them again. His limbs felt like lead. He’d thought the shakiness was just when he needed a dose, and whilst that _did_ exacerbate it, he was now realising he was shaking like a leaf almost constantly. God only knows what they put in anti-psychotics in 1963... maybe he was lucky to only have these side effects. 

“What are you in for then?” Lila inquired whilst trying to haphazardly shove a piece into somewhere it clearly didn’t fit. Diego reached and took it from her, “this isn’t p-prison.” he sarcastically replied, whilst sliding the piece down to its correct location. Lila turned to look up at him sourly. “I could’ve done that!” she moaned like one of Eudora’s brat nieces. Ouch, why the fuck did he have to keep thinking of Eudora?! “Earth to Diegoooooo!” she sang at him, waving a hand in his face. He shuffled in his seat and looked down at the ground, trying to fight back the tears he felt rising.

Lila sighed dramatically. “Fine then, where’d you get those scars?” she asked nonchalantly, not bothering to look up from her jigsaw. Diego snorted, though his eyes were still glassy with tears. This chick had no tact. “Knives.” he grunted at her, voice still shaky from emotion. “You give them to yourself?” Lila mused whilst shoving a lollipop into her mouth. Where the hell did she even get one of those? “N-No!” He scoffed “the fuck?!” Diego’s face was contorted with offense. “What?!” She snapped around to look at him “we’re in a fucking nuthouse!” Diego rolled his eyes, fiddling with an unlit cigarette that he wished was one of his knives. Not that he wanted to use one right now... he just missed them; they were comforting. “Yeah well, ’m n-not crazy” he replied defensively.

Lila finally slid the last puzzle piece into her jigsaw. It was a clown, which was honestly pretty fitting for this whole mess. “You ever met a crazy person who’s all like _oh yeaaaah, I’m so mental. I see a 7 foot rabbit who follows me around everywhere and tells me to stab people in the eye_?” she joked dryly. Diego was briefly taken aback. The rabbit description reminded him of Donnie Darko, he never understood that shitty movie but Klaus had dragged him along to see it. He brushed it off, it was a coincidence. She’s from 1963. Maybe crackpots hallucinate man-sized rabbits a lot. She turned to look at Diego with concern when she realised he’d gone quiet. Diego gave her a smile that screamed _haha, you’re sooo funny, my sides are aching_. She gave him the finger and turned back around to her jigsaw before scrambling it up.

“You w-wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” he slurred under his breath. Lila turned back to him to place a corner puzzle piece into his free hand. It was the same damn puzzle. This chick was batshit. Diego raised his eyebrows before sighing, and ultimately placing down his piece where it had been before she scrambled it all up. She seemed happy with this, and began placing her own pieces down, too.

”Well it doesn’t matter, does it. I’m mad too, aren’t I?” Diego honestly kind of respected how straight up this chick was about her issues, he sure as shit wouldn’t be. He leaned in to pick up a piece, and slotted it in to place “Fine then,” he groaned “are y’ready? It’s a p-p-pretty long story...”

Lila had listened patiently to his slurred, over-complicated retelling of events. She was looking on at him as though he were telling a mystical fairytale. He supposed that’s all it was to her, he knew it sounded too ridiculous to be considered realistic - even for someone with blurred lines surrounding reality. “You really drew the short straw, didn’t you.” she murmured, hands under her chin propping it up.

“The fuck is th-that s’pposed to mean?” he bit back at her.

“Well if I had a superpower I would want it to be something really cool, like the ability to levitate or something.” Diego stared at her incredulously, not sure how to process what she just said. “W... were you listening?!” he tilted his head to the side in confusion. Diego leaned in to Lila “My brother literally got t-torn limb from limb by the Eldritch m-m-monsters _living in his gut_!” She laughed at his bluntness.

“Yeah, but if you compare that to being able to throw things well...” she teased, a small smile on her face. “That’s n-not my power,” he croaked defensively “It’s a type of telekinesis!” Lila looked at him with a face of thorough amusement, “Yeah, a shit type.” she snorted in an unladylike manner. Diego rolled his eyes at her and put a piece down on the jigsaw they were repeating for the fifth time.


	4. Ringo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego and Lila’s friendship was now solidly forming, making the institution a lot more bearable. Being told your life wasn’t real was still infuriating, though.

Over the past couple of days, Diego and Lila had spent a lot of time together. She definitely thought his story was a load of shit, but it was still nice to tell it to someone who wasn’t making secretive notes about him. When he’d asked her about her own reason for being in the institution, she had promptly changed the subject. He didn’t want to push it, maybe it was too traumatic. A selfish part of him also didn’t want to push it incase it was something he didn’t want to hear. Finding out she was a baby killer or an axe murderer would’ve made it hard to remain friends.

“Now you’re just taking the piss!” Lila snorted at him. Diego threw his head back in irritation and groaned.

“He served _eight years_ in office!” He couldn’t see Lila with his head back like this, but he just knew she’d be pulling a stupid face.

“It is a bit far fetched.” Richard pipped up confidently from his seat beside Diego. Diego shot his head up to glare at him, “You think you’re the fucking messiah!” he spluttered out. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t so disturbing. Richard gave him a look like he wanted to crucify him, so Diego quickly swivelled back to looking at Lila. “The tentacles and the time travel you’ll listen to,” she shrugged her shoulders “but you draw the line at Barack O-fucking-bama?!”

Today’s nurse leading the group cleared her throat, wanting to break up the incoming drama. She didn’t actually seem so bad, he supposed not all psychiatric nurses were evil in the ‘60’s. The orderlies working today, on the other hand, were particularly violent. One of them still had a black eye from Diego’s first day in the institution, he probably had a vendetta. Diego, Lila, and Jesus all fell into silence - they didn’t need another warning with those brick shithouses hanging around. 

—

“If he didn’t know y’all would have superpowers, why’d he go an’ adopt all o’ you?” Dr Nicholson drawled from behind his cigarette. It was pissing Diego off that this guy kept asking him questions he didn’t know the answer to. He could’ve gone his whole life without realising how many unanswered questions Hargreeves had left them with.

“I don’t know,” he muttered “I g-guess it was a hunch that we would be special, b-because of how we were born.” Diego looked at Nicholson shyly. He knew he wasn’t a fan of the whole immaculate conception storyline. Having Lila to confide in had helped his stutter hugely, he wasn’t so on edge with her there. But this made it even more humiliating when it came out around the quacks. They probably already had a whole stack of notes psychoanalysing his speech impediment.

Nicholson shook his head dismissively, and turned to look up at his clock. It was nearly the end of their session. “We’ll come back to that at a later date.” he sighed out. Diego really wasn’t looking forward to that. He made to get out of his seat, which was tiny compared to Nicholson’s. They had to do that on purpose, some weird power trip. “Before you run along,” Nicholson made a gesture for Diego to sit back down. He rolled his eyes and slumped back into his little chair. “You seem t’be coping well with your dosages.” the doctor drawled as he lazily jotted down his notes. Diego’s blood ran cold. For the last couple of days, since Lila had taught him how to fake taking his medication, he’d significantly lowered his dose. Not cold turkey, he knew that wasn’t pretty - but he was quickly tapering them down. Was it obvious?

“Y-yes, doc.” Diego stuttered, he panicked when he realised how out of character his politeness had been. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to raise any suspicion for Nicholson. The doctor put his pen down and removed his glasses from his greasy face. They’d steamed up from the humidity of today.

”I think we’ve found the right dose for your tranquillisers, for now...” Diego let out a deep sigh of relief, “but we need t’be increasing your anti-psychotics.” Nicholson told him authoritatively. Diego scrambled to stand up, those were the worst of his drug cocktail. He already had so many pills that it was tough to hide them under his tongue, he didn’t know if he could hide _more_.

“N-no, you d-don’t need to do that!” He pleaded, looking as pathetic as he felt. Nicholson was unbothered, barely even acknowledging him. “Your delusions are just as nutty as when you got here, boy.” he murmured as he put his glasses back on and met Diego’s eye. “That’s because it’s _t-true_!” Diego yelled.

—

Losing his shit at Dr Nicholson had been a stupid fucking move, as he left the office with both his tranquillisers and his anti-psychotics increased. Nicholson had demanded he calmed down before going back out into the unit. Diego had finally agreed to take a tranquilliser in front of the doctor, once he’d been reminded of the needle that could be used instead. He shuffled like a zombie over to Lila, and plonked down on the seat next to her. “Had a nice time?” she snorted. Diego’s eyelids felt so heavy he could hardly see, and anything he could see was doubled. “Increased m’ medica...” he slurred. “I can see that.” she replied with a sly grin.

Diego needed to sleep, and right fucking now, but they weren’t allowed to their cots during the day. They were locked behind a set of bars, which Diego thought was overkill. “Why didn’t you just put it under your tongue, dickhead?” she teased as she sat twisting yarn for the bracelet she was making. Diego shoved his hand onto his face, why _didn’t_ he just hide it under his tongue?! Lila let out a colosal chuckle. She harshly yanked his arm, which made him sway massively, and started to tie the bracelet around his wrist - alongside his hospital wrist band. He squinted up at her in deep confusion, why would he want a bracelet?

“It’s a friendship bracelet.” she hissed, like he was the most stupid person she’d ever met. “Who said w-w’friends?” he teased, even though his words felt thick and hard to control like treacle in his mouth. She paused mid-tie to smack his hand. “Oh please, I’m your _best_ friend.” Lila giggled as she finished the knot. He tried to squint menacingly at her, but his eyes just fully closed. “That’s not true,” he dragged his eyes back open and attempted to focus his vision onto her “I have uh v’ry close c’nnection with Jesus.” Diego lied as he attempted to groggily point towards Richard. “Well, maybe if you ask nicely they’ll let you go to the chapel.” Lila replied with faux sincerity.

—

Lila had been elbowing Diego awake for the rest of the day, so he didn’t have to be dragged into consciousness by a grumpy orderly. She was tiny but her jabs sure packed a punch. Diego groaned to himself as his thoughts reminded him of Vanya. “What?” Lila snapped to look at him with concern. “Just my baby sister who blew up the m-moon” he moaned, fully aware how crazy it sounded but way past caring. “Maybe you did need those anti-psychotics increased” Lila supplied with a roll of her eyes. It was coming up to lights out, the time in which he and Lila had to separate to the men’s bunks and the women’s bunks. Diego was embarrassed to admit it even to himself, but he found himself longing to be near Lila when he was alone at night. His cot was sandwiched in between John and Paul’s, both of whom talked in their sleep, and snored violently.

“What was Ringo Star’s real name?” Diego mused aloud. Lila wasn’t bothered by the randomness of his mumbling. “Richard, I think.” she muttered as she unwrapped her lollipop. Diego snorted, he hoped they got a new guy called George.


	5. Harvey Lee Olson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego’s growing obsession with Kennedy refuses to budge, and he and Lila grow closer.

“Nope,” Diego shook his head “I’m pretty damn sure I’m here because of Kennedy.” he drawled to an unimpressed Dr Nicholson. The doctor sighed and flicked open his lighter, “We’re going ‘round in circles.” he lit his third cigarette of the session. Diego was tapping his foot up and down manically, trying to contain his rage. He didn’t want his meds upped again, he didn’t want restraints or isolation, and he definitely didn’t want a needle shoved into his arm. “Why else would I have landed here?” he spat at the doctor through gritted teeth, rapidly losing his patience. Nicholson blew smoke out of the side of his mouth. “You believe there has to be a deeper reason for all this, _because_ you believe you landed here, right son?” Diego nodded, though he knew this was leading somewhere. “Well what if you didn’t land here?” Nicholson tapped his cigarette ash into his ashtray. 

Diego stomped his foot down like a brat child, “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not from now!” he yelled. Nicholson simply stared at him, seemingly not caring about the dramatics. Nevertheless, an orderly still placed his hand warningly on Diego’s shoulder. “So how’d y’know when _now_ is?” Nicholson sounded as apathetic as ever. Diego humorlessly chuckled. “Because your nurses tell us the date every day in group?” Was this man a complete fucking idiot? Nicholson lifted an eyebrow, and Diego clenched his jaw. “I meant...” Nicholson cleared his throat, no doubt from smoking like a chimney “on your first day.” Diego scowled at him, the fuck was he talking about? Nicholson noticed Diego’s brow furrowed in confusion. “On our first meeting,” he explained “you told me it was nineteen-sixty-three, son. Now, how would you know that if you just fell out of the sky?”

Diego gulped. “I-I-I saw a newspaper, when I landed!” he hastily lied. He’d never been a great liar. “That’s awfully convenient.” Nicholson replied as he stubbed out his cigarette. Diego was shocked not to see him immediately light another. Diego chewed on his thumb nail nervously. “I saw K-Kennedy on a TV” he croaked “I g-guessed it must’ve b-been the year he died”. Admitting to having been lying mere moments ago probably wasn’t the best decision in terms of proving his credibility. Nicholson gave him a sly smirk “Why, that’s even more convenient.” Diego squirmed in his seat. He wondered what Lila was doing.

Nicholson picked up his fountain pen to jot down some notes, the same pen Diego had attempted to throw at his calendar. Looking at it made him embarrassed. “So how’d they kill ‘im?” the doctor asked, still looking down at his rapidly growing pile of notes. “They shot him.” Diego grumbled. He knew Nicholson was just humoring him. “Uh huh,” he crossed out a word and corrected it “and who was it who did the assassination?”

Diego let his eyes fall shut with despair. “It’s a l-long story.” he muttered under his breath. “Oh?” Nicholson asked, putting his pen down to look up at Diego with a bemused expression. Maybe telling him the truth would make it more believable, the story had too many details to have been invented by Diego’s brain. “They charged a guy n-named Harvey Lee Oswald,” Diego sighed out “but it’s a pretty m-mainstream conspiracy theory that the CIA did it.”

Nicholson looked at him with a face of pure confusion. “What in the hell is a _conspiracy theory?_ ” well shit, maybe that term hadn’t been coined yet. “Exactly, it’s from the future.” Diego said with a smug smile. Nicholson slumped back in his seat and reached down to his pack of smokes for his inevitable fourth cigarette.

“Why don’t people believe it was this Harvey Lee Olson fella?” Nicholson lit his cigarette. Diego promptly broke their eye contact to stare at the floor, pouting like a baby. Maybe the plan to tell him the whole truth hadn’t been so great, after all. “It was an impossible shot...” Diego whispered, barely even audible. “Huh?” Nicholson leaned in on his desk to get closer to Diego. He looked up from the floor to make eye contact with his doctor, shooting him an icy glare. “It was an impossible shot.” he grunted. Embarrassed, he tried to change the subject to something he knew his doctor was keen to discuss “Why don’t we talk about how the forty-three were born?” Nicholson pulled a face that made it clear he knew Diego was deflecting, but he sighed and picked his pen up. “So these women, you say none of ‘em were pregnant at the start of the day...”

—

Their nurse held a small paper cup out to Diego, who was scraping out his pot of jello. He begrudgingly grabbed it from her and looked down into it. There were so many now, he’d been having to take half of them after they’d increased them - since he couldn’t hide more than half under his tongue. He looked back up at his nurse with Puss in Boots eyes “Nurse, do you think they could give me higher dose pills so I don’t have to t-take as many?” he pleaded. She looked down at him with gentle confusion. “It’s just, they kinda g-get stuck in my throat when I have to swallow so many of ‘em.” he tentatively fibbed to her. Diego knew this nurse was actually quite kind, so he was only really nervous of her telling him no - not scared she would punish him. The nurse patted his hand gently, “I’ll ask the doctor, sweetheart.” she cooed at him. 

—

Diego felt like he was floating from the copious amounts of medicine they’d given him - he dreaded to think what he would be like with the entire dose, rather than just half. “Group, this is our new patient.” their nurse informed them, Diego attempted to focus his bleary eyes onto her and the new guy. “His name is George.” the guy shuffled nervously in his seat beside her. Diego let out a loud snort, as did Lila. Their nurse turned to glare at Lila and then at him. Diego felt kind of guilty after she’d been nice with him earlier. He flashed her a sorrowful smile. Lila continued to giggle.

“What’s so funny?!” George snapped at her. Jeez, Diego could guess why that asshole was admitted. Lila startled and immediately stopped her chuckling. “It’s just because we already have a J-John, Paul, and Richard...” Diego defended themselves on Lila’s behalf. George squinted at him in angry confusion. Diego turned to look around the circle and noticed a group of similar reactions. Were these people dumb as well as batshit? “The Beatles...” he murmured, voice getting quieter as people only seemed to grow more confused. “Who the fuck are The Beatles?!” George yelled viciously at him.

—

Lila was sat by herself staring out of the window glumly. Diego grabbed a chair and dragged it along the floor towards her, causing an ear-splitting screech. “Shut the fuck up!” someone shouted from behind him, he couldn’t even tell if it was a patient or an orderly. Diego sighed, he felt too woozy to lift the chair and carry it. He decided just to walk over to Lila and lean against the wall. “Who died?” he joked. She shot him a fierce look, causing him to panic internally. Shit, did someone actually die?! He stuck up an apologetic hand, and she shrugged and lazily threw her gaze down to the floor. Diego needed to change the topic quickly, so he asked something that had been bothering him since group. “How did you know who Ringo Star was?” he muttered. She looked back up at him with a furrowed brow. “Well, no one else did...” he continued, feeling incredibly awkward.

“I’m British... remember?” she replied with her signature _you’re an idiot_ tone. Diego chuckled, she was right - he was an idiot. It made sense they’d be famous in Britain before America. He felt himself relax again as he slumped down the wall to sit on the floor. “He’s gonna kill me in my sleep, isn’t he.” Diego shot his gaze over to George, who was glaring furiously in their direction. Diego threw him a timid wave, and a _please don’t kill me_ smile before promptly looking back to Lila. She broke her brooding to snort gently. Diego looked up to her wistfully, he wanted to reach out and touch her - to help her. His thoughts were interrupted by being violently yanked off the floor by his arm. Diego braced himself to have to use his hand-to-hand skills in his drugged up state, but let out a sigh of relief when he realised it was just a bastard orderly.

“I don’t know if you were literally raised in a barn, beaner - but you can’t just sit on the floor.” Diego was definitely going to have bruises from how hard this fucker was grabbing him. “I’ve never even been in a barn, you racist fuck.” he spat out, pure rage boiling his blood. He wasn’t even being physical, but the bastard still harshly punched him in the gut. Diego doubled over in pain and tried to catch his breath. The orderly took advantage of this and grabbed his other arm before shoving him against the wall to restrain him. “I didn’t even f-“ he choked out a shaky breath “fucking do anything!” The orderly let out a smug chuckle, clearly enjoying his power. Diego kicked his leg backwards to attempt to get him in the crotch. He looked over at Lila from where his face was shoved sideways against the wall, and saw her looking like a deer in headlights. “Your arm, Diego!” she yelled, which confused the hell out of him. A moment later, though, he felt a sense of recognition as the sharp, unmistakable pain of a needle hit his arm. This time, he didn’t even bother to try and stop his heavy eyelids from closing. The haze of tranquillity hit him almost instantly.


	6. Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr Nicholson helps Diego through some unaddressed issues surrounding Ben’s afterlife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a brief mention of puke during the eighth paragraph.

Diego was pretty sure he had a full blown nicotine addiction at this point, after breathing in so much second hand smoke. Maybe they did that on purpose so he’d subconsciously long for a session. At some points, he could barely see Nicholson five feet in front of him. “So he was there the entire time?” his doctor drawled. Diego sighed. “Yeah. No. I don’t know...” he really didn’t want to think about it. He never wanted to think about it again. Had he been there the entire time, just watching them look through him? “Maybe it was just because he was sober for once...” Diego muttered, picking at a loose hem on his starchy scrub shirt.

Nicholson picked up his trusty fountain pen. “You never thought to just ask him, son?” If he weren’t still recovering from yet another needle being shoved into him he probably would’ve screamed, instead, he just groaned. “How could I have trusted whatever he w-would’ve said, he lies more than anyone I’ve ever m-met!” Diego ran his hand through his scruffy hair. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about it. 

_”He’s not a fu-fucking ghost, Klaus!” he yelled, his pubescent voice breaking on the last word. Ben couldn’t be a ghost. He couldn’t just be stuck here... all alone. He had to have passed over, gone into the light. Why would he want to stay here, in this god-awful house?_

 _Klaus snorted “Well he begs to differ” he gestured to the empty air to Diego’s side. A cold shiver went through his spine. Diego stepped away from the space, even though he knew the ghost to be fake. He just wanted the day to be over now that Ben was laid to rest._

_“Just drop it, Klaus” Vanya sniffled, her face red and puffy from tears. Numbers One through Four turned to stare at her in confused silence - they’d honestly forgotten she was there._

_“She’s right Klaus, just let him rest in peace” Allison broke the silence and sent Vanya a sympathetic look. Klaus giggled bitterly and pulled out his hip flask. Luther promptly snatched it from him and threw it against the kitchen wall, shattering it into pieces. “Hey!” Klaus screeched, causing Luther to grab him by his shirt collar._

_“He’s not here!” Luther spat, Klaus for once in his life actually looked quite panicked - his neck turning crimson from how hard Luther was gripping his shirt. He looked off to the space that Ben supposedly stood, and gave a small nod. Luther pulled tighter, clearly not impressed by the continued attention seeking. Klaus threw his hands up, gesturing his surrender. “You’re right... you’re right” he muttered bashfully. “He’s not here, I lied” Klaus let out a nervous giggle. Luther dropped his grip suddenly, hands balled into fists. “It should’ve been you” he murmured, before storming out of the room. No one said anything - simply stared at Four with looks of disgust before following Luther upstairs._

It was getting harder to breathe, the world felt like it was closing in around him. He felt like he did as a child when Hargreeves locked him in a water tank for hours to see how long he could hold his breath. He remembered banging and clamouring on the glass, terrified he was going to never get out alive. Twice, he’d even gotten aspiration pneumonia as he panicked and tried to breathe whilst under the water, leading it all down to his lungs. Sometimes he had swallowed too much in his attempts to scream, and had vomited into the same water he was trapped within.

”Diego?” Nicholson’s voice pulled him from his panic. He shot his tear filled eyes up to his doctor, who looked rather concerned. “Do you need some of your medication, son?” Diego nodded at him without hesitation, for the first time since he’d been here he actually _wanted_ to feel numb, to feel so calm he could barely think. Next thing Diego knew, a nurse was shoving a little paper cup into his hand. “Th-th-th” he spluttered, trying to thank her - something he’d never done before. She smiled at him softly, and held his cheek in her hand “That’s okay, sweetie” she cooed. She reminded him of mom. He missed his mom. Diego swallowed his pill dry, and handed the cup back to his nurse. She smiled at him again, before leaving and gently closing the office door behind her.

Diego hung his head down and tried to steady his breathing. He wasn’t sure how long they sat in silence, just the noise of the clock ticking. ”Why not ask him for some proof?” Nicholson pondered, looking over his desk at Diego with pity. Diego narrowed his eyes with confusion, having to make sure they didn’t just close completely as the drugs already made their way through his system. “The g-ghosts, they can’t t-touch things” he explained. He remembered Ben’s tentacles tearing those weird gunmen apart mere weeks ago, “or at least they c-couldn’t before that day” he added on. Nicholson shook his head dismissively. “No, son. I mean just _ask_ the kid” Diego was still confused, the tranquilizers definitely weren’t helping matters. Nicholson sighed and gently placed his pen down onto his desk. “Ask him something only Ben would know” the doctor told him with a shrug of his shoulders. Huh, that actually was a good idea. He hated it when Nicholson was right.

“W-why are y’even helping me with this anyway? Y-you think I’m crazy” Diego slurred back to him. Nicholson sent him a small, genuine smile. “Your delusions didn’t just come from nowhere” he grabbed his last remaining cigarette “they’re based around reality” he murmured from the side of his mouth as he lit it. Diego shuffled uncomfortably, he wasn’t as angry as he usually was when Nicholson demanded his life wasn’t real... just frustrated. “I have no doubt your father was an abusive man” he drawled in his thick Dallas accent “and I can assume this whole... ghost business” he gestured his hands vaguely, wafting smoke over to Diego in the process “is your way o’ copin’ with the death of your brother”. Okay, so maybe the doctor still thought he was batshit, but Diego would take it. He actually found himself feeling _grateful_ to the man. Diego gave him a shy half smile, a single tear falling from his eye as he looked up. Nicholson returned a smirk, his eyes for once holding genuine empathy. “Hopefully, addressing the most upsetting elements of your delusions will help you deal with the reality they’re masking” he spoke in a very matter of fact way. Diego felt almost bad that this guy wouldn’t ever actually be able to fix his so called psychosis.

”It must’ve hurt... you know?” Diego mumbled “Being stuck, no one even believing you’re there... your own family”. What was Ben even like now as a person? After so many years he must’ve changed, must’ve grown up - in a fucked up, ghost sense. Was he still timid, gentle Ben? Could he read his books? They always comforted him... and yeah, the whole Icarus Theatre thing was kind of a blur, but Diego could’ve sworn Ben looked like a _man_ , not a boy... 

”Maybe it was easier for y’all to believe he had passed on, gone up t’heaven” Nicholson wondered as he fiddled with his pen, no doubt already jonesing for a cigarette.

_“You live in a boiler room?” Klaus slurred as he wobbled into Diego’s home. He stumbled through the room, and paused to look at mom’s cross stitch._

_“At least I have somewhere to live” Diego grunted as he made his way down the stairs to hang up his holster. Once he’d removed it, he thought better of leaving it - and his expensive knives - out in the open. Diego attempted to subtly bundle them up in a sweater he’d left on his couch, and tucked it inside his laundry basket._

_“Ben had one of these, y’know” Klaus mumbled as he took a cigarette from his pocket and began to try lighting it, before it was knocked out of his hand by a pen Diego threw. Klaus let out a disappointed moan, but seemed to accept defeat. He knew Diego didn’t like the smell._

_Diego shrugged, “Yeah, well we all did” he sauntered over to his couch to sit down and remove his shoes. His feet hurt like hell, it had been a long day and night._

_Klaus giggled, and turned to face Diego. “Pawned mine, when we were still kinda famous and sexy” he sighed nostalgically, lost in his own memories. He snapped out of his thoughts with a smile, and stumbled over to slump onto Diego’s couch. Diego shuffled slightly closer to the arm of his couch, feeling uncomfortable from being too near to a sibling; he tried to separate himself from them in all senses._

_”He said remember when you stole Luther’s cross stitch, and-“ he looked up at nothing, and let out a harsh snort “you- you threw a knife through it?” Klaus turned to look at Diego, a manic glint in his eyes. “You got so scared Luther would rat on you to dad that you cried and had to go beg mom for another?” Klaus laughed out, slapping his leg._

_Diego lunged over to the other side of the couch to grab Klaus by the collar of his stupid mesh shirt. “H-how did you know that?!” he hissed, trying to blink back his tears. Klaus just giggled, fucking giggled. “This bullshit isn’t fucking funny, Klaus” he seethed._

_”Have you ever heard of the Umbrella Academy?” Klaus asked sarcastically, still unbothered by Diego’s grip. “They have these powers, crazy huh?” he giggled. “One in particular was so cute... such dreamy eyes... anyway, he could see the dead. Surprise!” Klaus threw up halfhearted jazz hands “It’s meee” he drawled with a false smile._

_Diego dropped his grip from Klaus’ shirt, and shuffled back to his side of the couch. He threw his head back in despair and frustration. Ben wasn’t here. He was gone. He got out. “Why the fuck would he want to watch you choke on your own vomit, and forget how to breathe” Diego muttered, attempting to sound vicious but just sounding exhausted both physically and mentally. Why couldn’t Klaus just let Ben rest in peace? Why couldn’t he let the others rest in the comfort of him being away from this shitty world?_

Damn it, he wished Nicholson would stop being so accurate in his psychoanalyses. “M’ybe...” he slurred. Nicholson was chewing on his fountain pen, and looking at Diego with what looked like _hope_ in his eyes. He thinks he can help Diego, thinks he can fix things; but he can’t, no one can but the academy. This can’t be fixed by pills or therapy. He has to find the others, he has to stop the assassination, he has to fix things. “It’s nearly the end of our session, and you look like you could do with some rest, son”. Diego nodded groggily, moving his head up and down took a great deal of concentration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little angsty I guess. Now Diego is opening up more to his doctor there’ll be more memories in future chapters! Also if Reginald locked Vanya and Klaus up I have no doubt he would’ve done similar to the others. Locking them in places seems to be his go to plan lmao


	7. 43 New Messiahs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions run high between Diego and Lila, and Dr Nicholson helps Diego work through what his power means to him.

“Were any of the 43 virgins?” Richard asked excitedly. He looked like a kid at Christmas, all puns aside. “I don’t know... I guess some of them probably?” Diego mused. Why didn’t he know? Why hadn’t he ever even considered that? They were innocent women who were used as some kind of vessels... how had he never stopped to think of how they had felt? He’d spent his whole life feeling fury and resentment towards his birth mother for selling him to that monster, but maybe he’d been blinded by his own suffering. She had suffered, undoubtedly. Maybe she’d been terribly poor, maybe she’d had no family to support her bastard child, maybe she’d been shunned like a cursed woman... Richard looked disappointed, no doubt hoping he could have 43 fellow messiahs out there one day.

An orderly wandered over and placed a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “You got a visitor, Richard” he said between puffs of his cigarette. Richard looked around him, seemingly looking for this Richard fella. Poor kid. Diego supposed he’d been too quick to judge these people, and much too harsh in his judgement. Sure, they were fucking crazy - but they weren’t bad people. Richard was actually a very nice dude, the only other person besides Lila keeping him sane... as ironic as that is. They’d been told not to enable each others delusions, which included calling Richard by his name. Diego knew the guy wasn’t Jesus, but he couldn’t bring himself to shatter this guy’s whole worldview. He knew how that had felt when he’d questioned his own story not long after his arrival. He guessed how it must have felt for Klaus all those times they told him Ben wasn’t there.

Richard finally twigged, and sauntered off with the orderly to the visiting room. A room Diego had never seen inside, and probably never would. Lila was sat across the table from him, terribly shuffling a deck of cards. Diego knew normally he’d be able to just grab a card and shoot it at someone to slit their throat, but not now. Not since they had him drugged. He wasn’t sure that was the reason why, but he was pretty certain. If it worked for Klaus, it would work for him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been born yet, and therefore his power hadn’t been released into the universe... or some other existential mumbo-jumbo. 

“What?” Lila snipped as she began splitting the cards between them “Why are you being so quiet?”. Diego didn’t want to go into his deepest darkest thoughts with her. “Just can’t believe he thinks he’s Jesus...” Diego replied dryly. Lila looked up from her task and raised an eyebrow “Says the superhero from the future” she deadpanned. Diego scoffed dismissively. “Well when you say it like _that_ ” Lila’s look turned to one of contempt. “There’s no way of wording it that doesn’t sound mental” she groaned, looking back down to her cards with an icy expression. Diego had grown used to her hot and cold moods. He guessed maybe that’s why she was there, maybe she had what would be called Bipolar in 2019. He knew not to push her buttons, her mood would soften eventually.

Apparently Lila wasn’t happy with his silence. “Ever think you’re a bit of a massive fucking hypocrite?” she said as she gave up on her card splitting and shoved them down onto the table. “Well I’m not crazy” he drawled back at her, hoping to stop the discussion from escalating too much. Seemingly, this was not the best route. “What, like me you mean?!” her eyes narrowed with seething rage. “N-no I m-meant like J-Jesus” Diego replied, feeling deep guilt rising in his gut. “Whatever.” Lila scoffed as she pushed herself out from under the table and stormed away to the other side of the room. Diego shoved his head into his hands, his fingers pulling on his hair. He needed a goddamn haircut. 

—

“What do y’think your supposed power represents?” Nicholson asked in a way that implied he already knew the answer. After opening up to Nicholson in their last session, things had been a bit less aggravating... it felt less like the guy was out to get him.

“I don’t think they represent shit” Diego let out a small chuckle “...I guess they’re random”. He knew Ben’s power didn’t represent him. Gentle, quiet Ben with literal fucking monsters inside his gut. Luther, yeah, okay so maybe his power was a bit on the nose... the same for Allison. Five’s power suited his personality pretty well, since he was an obnoxious little shit who loved math. Hargreeves used to say he “adapted” to use his power as a shortcut, but it was more like the power simply existed _so_ he could use it that way. No one really understood Klaus’ power, least of all him, apparently. It’s hard to make Klaus shocked, but he looked shocked as all hell that day in the Icarus Theatre when Ben’s tentacles had been unleashed. Vanya’s power seemed so starkly contrast to who she was, but was that really who she was, or was she like that because of the methods their father had used to suppress her power? But Diego himself... he didn’t know what it meant or didn’t mean. 

_”I wish I had your power, Two...” Six whispered as he pulled his blanket around his shoulders. It hadn’t been long since their father unveiled the academy to the world. They’d been on several missions already, though. Each, it seemed, bloodier than the last._

_“Me too,” Four sighed wistfully “or maybe like Seven... just ordinary.” Two felt uncomfortable, he felt guilty for being born with what he had. It wasn’t his fault, it was completely out of his control._

_Four barely slept, always rambling about some scary ghost or another. Two could never understand why he didn’t just banish them. Six would have nightmares fairly often, especially since their missions began. He said it hurt more to know he had killed people than it did to actually tear open his abdomen to let the beasts out. That was how they’d found themselves hauled up in Two’s bedroom. One would simply tattle on them to Dad, Three had rumored them into leaving her alone, Five was gone, and Seven was... well, she was Seven. They didn’t bother her, and she didn’t bother them._

_“I-it’s not all great, you know” Two admitted, trying not to sound too defensive. “I kn-know it’s not g-ghosts and m-monsters” he looked down at his hand that was fiddling with a knife, Two tried to think of mom’s advice. Picture the words in your mind... “but I can k-kill people really easily, and d-dad knows that.” Four made a thoughtful squeak, and Six nodded his head solemnly._

_Two was actually jealous of Four, he never had to kill anyone. Not once. He barely did anything on their missions, his power wasn’t exactly useful. A lot of the time, Two wondered why dad even brought him along. Four seemed to realise what Two was thinking, as the air grew silent and tense. Six sighed and picked back up his book he had tossed aside earlier, Two shuffled back into his bed, and Four wandered over to Two’s window to smoke a strange looking cigarette. None of them said a word, but each other’s company felt soothing._

Did his power represent something about him? It seemed like they were only brought into the world because of their abilities - since their births were so bizarre, and they were the only people in the world to possess powers. What did it mean for Diego that he had been brought into this world solely so he could have the ability to kill with great ease?

”When we were kids, Four and Six said they wished they had my powers...” Diego admitted. Nicholson placed his pen down suddenly enough to make Diego slightly flinch. “No numbers, son” he drawled. Diego scowled, those were their fucking names - their legal names, their names from birth. “W-we hadn’t gotten our names yet” he explained, feeling like he had to defend himself. Nicholson sighed and granted Diego a thoughtful moment of eye contact. “That don’t matter, you’re Diego and they’re...” he waved his hand as he tried to remember their names - “Klaus and Ben” Diego helped him out. Nicholson nodded thankfully. “You’re people not numbers,” he pulled a cigarette from his pack and slotted it between his lips “you were _kids_ not numbers...” he flicked his lighter open and lit his cancer stick. Diego shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. He knew he was right, but it still felt difficult to accept. Those numbers were their sole identities for over a decade. “No more numbers” Nicholson drawled, giving Diego a stern glance. “No more numbers” Diego repeated back. He didn’t know if he felt happy or sad, but he knew it was right. _No more fucking numbers_.

—

Lila was happily trying to flip a cup right side up when Diego left his session. Her mood had seemingly cleared from earlier. He tentatively sauntered over to her and pulled out a chair slowly, like he was waiting for her to pounce. She instead just smiled at him, as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Diego breathed a sigh of relief and slumped down into his chair. Why did how she felt mean so much to him? He barely knew the chick, didn’t even know why she was institutionalised...

”I’m sorry about earlier” he told her in a hushed tone, apologies were always hard for him to admit. “I shouldn’t stigmatise craz-“ he cleared his throat anxiously “mentally ill people...” Lila gave him a playful eye roll. “Whatever,” she muttered, passing him a cup to flip with her. Diego didn’t want to try. He didn’t want to be reminded his power didn’t work. Diego placed it down gently on the table and twiddled his thumbs instead.

”It’s just always hard... when people have visitors” Lila bashfully admitted. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Diego’s eye. “You don’t got anybody who could come?” he asked earnestly, feeling a little heart broken on her behalf. She shook her head dismissively. “It’s alarming how often you seem to forget I’m fucking British” she scoffed. Diego mirrored her earlier actions and rolled his eyes and shook his head. “So what, no family come over with you?” he inquired, honestly interested in her story that he knew so little about. She shook her head, though this time there was no playfulness present. “No...” she said finally. “I miss my mum” Lila paused her cup flipping and looked down at the ground by her white plimsoles. Diego sighed deeply. “Yeah, me too...” they shared a moment of deep and grief stricken eye contact.

An orderly walked over to them and stopped their eye contact in its tracks, both looking away shiftily. “Dios mío” he said in a terribly offensive and inaccurate Mexican accent. The orderly placed a huge hand on Diego’s shoulder, and whilst the gesture wasn’t explicitly threatening - it implied a warning. Diego didn’t look up from his gazing at the floor, he didn’t want another needle or punch in the gut. “Y’all brownies sticking together, huh?” the orderly sneered. He was twisting a toothpick around with his tongue - a walking, talking stereotype. He just needed a cowboy hat. “You,” he pointed his calloused finger over to Lila “Henderson wants to see ya” he gestured his head to the doctors office down the corridor. Lila began to groan, but stopped herself when she thought better of pissing the guy off.

She and Diego had different doctors, there were two on their unit - and they seemed to split their shares of patients 50/50. Diego wondered what Henderson was like... was he kind with Lila? Was he cruel and making her worse? Nicholson could help her, she _actually_ had issues he could fix. Diego sighed and gave her a gentle smile as she slowly dragged herself from her chair, and walked away with the orderly. He wished he could help her, make her better. Maybe Diego could help with whatever tricks her mind plays on her, he could support her - like he should’ve supported his siblings. Except, ew, definitely _not_ like a sibling - he’s not Luther. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know bipolar doesn’t work that way (If anyone cares to know, manic/depressive cycles last weeks or months - not changing throughout the course of a day. Unless it’s rapid cycling, but that’s rare) But I don’t really think Diego has much info on bipolar haha


	8. Newspaper Privileges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego tries to keep track of the world outside the institution, and thinks back on how being Number Two felt.

**_“NEGROS REPORTEDLY HOLDING UNDERCOVER MEETINGS...”_ **

A brutish orderly snatched the newspaper from Diego’s hands before he could read beyond the headline. He jumped up and tried to snatch it back, before being swatted with it like a fly. Diego needed to know what was going on out there, he needed to find them, he needed to know what Kennedy was doing leading up to 11.22.63.

“You know you ain’t got newspaper privileges” the orderly scolded. Diego slumped down into his chair. He was actually _craving_ second hand smoke, but couldn’t bring himself to actually have a cigarette himself. Lila looked on apologetically, at least she and Richard had tried to sneak the newspaper over to him. Yeah, they relayed him the important stuff - but they didn’t know what they were looking for. 

Originally Diego had been hoping his siblings would’ve all have ended up here too, maybe just spread across Dallas or even DC - somewhere with a connection to the assassination. But, the more he saw of 1963, the less he wanted them to be here; Allison in particular. Even though they’d been wealthy, famous, and she could distort reality - she still could never escape racism in 2019. That was hard enough, but 1963... Jim fucking Crowe... he didn’t want that for her. She wouldn’t be safe, even if her voice were to miraculously heal. The welfare of his sister aside - who could even know what her involvement in this period would change. Maybe JFK would be assassinated at a completely different date, Diego could miss his shot at stopping it. 

Klaus was a whole other anxiety inducing thought... Diego didn’t know if he even liked dudes, but he was pretty damn girly. Even chicks wouldn’t wear some of the shit he wore. He could’ve just landed in his eyeliner and been kicked to death by a bunch of rednecks. The veterans’ bar had been difficult enough.

Diego darted his eyes up to Lila, “Whats it like?” he muttered “being...” Well shit, he didn’t even know what to call people like him and Lila. Were only African Americans colored? Hargreeves had been a typical old white man, in that he had never cared to address the four different races of his children. “...not white in 1963” he clarified. Lila stared at him like a deer in headlights. Maybe people just didn’t talk about this stuff in 1963. “It’s all just a big laugh, really” she finally teased. Lila looked down at the paper fortune teller she was making. “Whats it like in 2019?” she asked as she briefly looked up at Diego from underneath her eyelashes. The sight made Diego’s heart melt. 

“I’m not getting in to the whole Barack Obama thing again...” he murmured with a sly grin on his face. “I guess on paper we have the same rights and everything, but it doesn’t really work that way.” Diego explained with a solemn shrug of his shoulders. “My sisters black,” he rested his arms on their table so he could watch Lila more comfortably “did I ever tell you that?” God, he hoped Allison was safe. She’d told him once when they were teenagers that she felt like she was too white to be black, and too black to be white. Would the African American community from 1963 accept her?

Lila didn’t flinch like he had been anticipating, she didn’t even bat an eye. Diego supposed maybe skin color had lost its shock factor, since she was now used to discussing superpowers and time travel. “Was your dad trying to collect one from every race?” she dryly joked whilst coloring in part of her game. Diego wasn’t sure exactly what the fuck her childish little origami toy was supposed to do. He couldn’t guess whether it was a ‘60’s thing, or just something he’d missed out on - from them not knowing any other kids for the first 17 years of their lives. “What is that thing?” he tried to sound nonchalant, not wanting Lila to be aware of how curious he was. She folded the now colored flap back down, and shot her mischievous eyes up to meet Diego’s. “It’s going to predict your future” she exclaimed with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Diego groaned, he should’ve known it would’ve been something batshit.

—

Diego would never admit to such a thing, but he felt less antsy since he’d started his session with Nicholson - the copious amounts of second hand smoke were calming his nerves. That was it though, just the nicotine... Nicholson was an okay guy but Diego still wasn’t really in to the whole therapy thing. He couldn’t stop thinking about Allison. Diego was unable to concentrate on whatever his doctor was mumbling about, he would just absentmindedly nod his head when he felt a lull in Nicholson’s jibber jabber. Allison couldn’t even speak, couldn’t scream for help. Diego’s blood ran cold at the thought of her walking in to the wrong side of a white neighborhood. He wasn’t exactly clued up on ‘60’s hairstyles, but he gathered her mane of blonde curls wouldn’t be common place.

”What effect did it have on you being Number Two of Seven?” Diego flicked his eyes up to Nicholson. Is that what he’d been talking about? Diego decided to give the discussion his full attention, it was a welcome distraction from his worsening worries about Allison. It was kind of a dumb fucking question... it wasn’t rocket science. “A lot of pressure” Diego grumbled.

_”Why is he Number Two?” Five nagged up to their father during a rehearsal mission. “He can’t even tell the bad guys what to do!” Five threw his hand up with frustration, before he swivelled to grant Two a sympathetic look “No offense, Two”. No offense? How the hell could he not take offense. Two shrugged it off and focused on spinning the knife he was holding. He wished he only had the amount of pressure Five had from dad. Hell, even Four would wander off in missions. They might think they want to be higher ranked, but it’s not all that fun. Number Two couldn’t even have a moment to think for himself without dad or One bossing him around._

_Their dad removed his monocle to dust it with his handkerchief, as if he could wipe Five’s insolence from his vision. The training hall stood in silence as they waited for dad to command orders. Five was struggling to contain a smirk. “Perhaps Number Five,” dad replaced his monocle in front of his eye “he is Number Two because he is capable of following the simple order of not speaking unless instructed to.” his tone was stern and unforgiving. Two felt his cheeks blushing slightly from the rush of receiving a semi-compliment from dad._

_Five’s grin had been dropped, as he now stood clenching his jaw - fists in tight balls. He sent a furious stare to Four who stood giggling at his left hand side; the drama clearly exciting him. Dad stopped glaring down his nose at Five, and turned his attention back to Two. “Spit it out then, boy!” he barked. Two’s grip around his knife tightened, the pressure from his dad inadvertently making it even harder to yell his demands. “Le-let the host-t-t” Two spluttered out, growing more shameful with each failed syllable._

_Their dad threw his hand up to silence Two’s efforts. Seven gave Two a regretful look as she scribbled down her notes. “Number One, you will speak Number Two’s instructions until he can learn the most basic of language skills.” Two was glad he was wearing his domino mask, as he knew dad would be outraged by the tears forming in his eyes. One had never looked so smug in all his life._

”I always wanted to be Number One instead of Luther...” Diego admitted as he tried not to notice how pathetic he sounded. Nicholson made a noise of understanding, too busy lighting his cigarette to respond properly... or maybe he just wanted to force Diego into filling the silence. “But I was also jealous of the others,” he reluctantly continued, finding Nicholson’s silence deafening “they didn’t have as much pressure.” Diego found himself wondering, not for the first time, exactly why Hargreeves had ranked them the way he had. How could he have known how they would react to his instructions - was it a self fulfilling prophecy?

”Maybe being second best hurts more than being just another number down the line” Nicholson drawled thoughtfully, as he reached down to pick up his fountain pen. Diego tilted his head to the side and hummed in thought - the guy made a fair point. Nicholson flicked through his notes to find the list of names - and their respective numbers - that he’d written last session. “Do you think the others resented you the way you resented Luther?” the Doctor mumbled as he apathetically looked across his desk to Diego. “God, I hope not” he grimaced. What was it with this guy and making Diego think about things he’d rather never crossed his mind? God, they probably _did_. Diego let out an embarrassed groan as all the times his siblings had sarcastically called him _Number Two_ echoed through his brain.

—

Diego shoved his unappealing dinner around his tray. He knew the word of a paranoid schizophrenic probably wasn’t reliable - but Richard had been very convincing about the sanitarium drugging their food. Lila shoved his arm playfully “Lots of people would pay good money for these drugs” she teased. Diego moaned and let go of his fork; he was disgusted to find it stood completely upright in his gloopy mashed potatoes. “You sound like my brother...” he mumbled. Lila stopped mid-chew to frown across the table at him. “I fucking hope not” she scoffed through a mouthful of meatloaf. Diego hoped it wasn’t obvious how he blushed at the implication of her reaction.

Richard faked a gag from Diego’s side “Get a room!” Diego pretended not to notice, whilst Lila took the not so subtle approach and kicked Richard under the table. The man thought he had powers but even he feared Lila, so he shut up immediately. Diego could understand, he _actually_ had powers and Lila scared the shit out of him. “Anyway...” Diego grumbled awkwardly “we need a better plan to get me the newspapers”. Most importantly he needed to keep track of JFK, but he also had to keep an eye out for a mute black woman, or a guy in leather pants talking to himself. They’d locked Diego up just because he had a few knives and knew the president was going to die! They could be locked up, or beaten any day now... that had to make the papers.


	9. I’m The Normal One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego finally gets his hands on the newspapers, and Lila has an idea.

“As I’ve explained to you before,” Nicholson sighed “your paranoid delusions will be worsened by the newspapers.” Diego clenched his jaw with frustration. No matter their idea, they’d been unable to successfully sneak the newspapers to Diego. It was like these people had eyes in the back of their heads. It was probably easier to get drugs in prison than to get the goddamn news in here! Begging his doctor was his last option.

Diego tried to not look too desperate, that probably would just make Nicholson more determined about the ban. “I’m better medicated now...” he mumbled, trying to look regretful “it won’t be like last time”. That part wasn’t a lie, the first and last time he’d read a newspaper in 1963 - he may have lost his cool a little bit. He couldn’t believe _he_ had ended up in the news, but not any of his stranger siblings... he was the most goddamn normal one. “I think it’ll help settle my nerves” Diego tried to sound as gentle as possible. 

Nicholson stubbed out his cigarette with a deep sigh. He removed his glasses to rub at his nose bridge, trying to massage away his tension. “Kennedy won’t go anywhere just because-“ Diego threw his hand up to stop his doctor, who surprisingly complied. The guy seemed exhausted today, maybe it would work in Diego’s favor. He reached to light another of his precious smokes. “It’s not about Kennedy” he pleaded. Nicholson didn’t even have to open his mouth to tell Diego that was bullshit, his face said it all. Diego winced. “Okay, okay maybe it’s a little about Kennedy...” he placated, trying not to let his voice sound hysterical “but it’s mostly about my siblings.” Nicholson shuffled in his seat, seemingly considering. “If you think I’m from the sixties, then th-that means my siblings are too!” Diego spluttered out, trying to plead his case. Using Nicholson’s logic against him seemed like the best idea. 

The doctor finally begrudgingly nodded his head. Diego had to hold himself back from jumping from his seat with glee. “Th-thank you!” he exclaimed. Nicholson raised a bemused eyebrow. “But - you can _only_ read them in our sessions.” Diego’s heart sank. It would be nerve racking having his doctor watch over him with suspicion every time. It was better than nothing, though. “Okay,” Diego threw Nicholson a small smirk “deal.”

—

Diego frantically flipped through the pages of the newspaper, growing more distressed with each unimportant page. _Nothing_ , not a fucking thing. He just couldn’t understand how he could be the only one. Had he missed his siblings in the news in the time he’d been in the sanitarium? Maybe he was too late, he’d lost that time and he could never get it back. They could be dead, or for all he knew - in another unit in the institution. “I- I thought they would be here...” Diego murmured, trying not to let his emotions seep into his voice. There wasn’t even anything about Kennedy, just stupid trivial nonsense. He shoved the newspaper down to the floor with shaking hands. If he’d had his power, he would’ve thrown it directly into the waste paper basket. Rapidly blinking _might_ imply he was holding back tears, but it at least showed some restraint.

Nicholson looked over at Diego solemnly, he seemed like he knew this was going to happen. Had it been a test? “Son,” he drawled gently “have y’considered maybe the others ain’t in the papers because they aren’t clinically insane?” Diego clenched his jaw so hard he could’ve ground his teeth into dust. As helpful as Nicholson was, at the end of the day he still thought Diego was batshit. To him, his siblings were probably just ordinary people getting on with their lives in 1963. There would be no reason for them to make the news if they were unassuming. “Is our session done yet?” Diego spat out through gritted teeth. They only had ten minutes left, anyway. Nicholson stubbed out his cigarette and lazily turned to look at his clock. He sighed and looked back to Diego with pitiful eyes “Sure, kid.”

—

Lila was braiding Richard’s long, shiny hair when Diego sauntered out of Nicholson’s office. The sight reminded him of when they were kids and Klaus would braid Allison’s hair. Both were odd sights, but quite endearing. He walked past Lila and Richard, causing an alarmed look from Lila. He didn’t even care. He ambled over to the bathrooms and made his way to the sinks. Diego turned on the squeaky faucet and ran the freezing cold water. He splashed it over his face like he’d seen women do on face wash commercials. The cold stung his skin, but he didn’t care - it was actually a good distraction. He needed the shock of cold to his system, he needed to calm himself the fuck down. Diego turned off the faucet, with his now bright red hand. Besides the crimson color of his cheeks, he looked like a stereotypical sixties hippy... he kinda liked it.

Diego let himself have a little smirk as he admired his new hairstyle. He’d _never_ had his hair long. Hargreeves never allowed it for the boys, only for Allison and Vanya. All five of them were to have the exact same cut, no debates. Diego supposed he just never grew out of that rigidity. How many other things in his life were like they were purely because of Hargreeves? If he liked his longer hair, and unshaved face, what else would he like? It dawned on Diego that he’d essentially continued to wear a uniform, too. Always wearing the same black getup. He told himself it was because he was a vigilante, and because it looked _badass_ \- but maybe it was just another part of his childhood lingering. Maybe that’s why Klaus dressed so goddamn weirdly, maybe that’s his way of defying their father. Diego sighed as he thought about his siblings, he knew he couldn’t think about them too long. He’d just start to panic again. He pulled up his scrub shirt to dry his face, the material was so scratchy it felt exfoliating. As Diego made his way back out into the communal area, he braced himself for his batshit friends.

—

Lila gulped down a huge mouthful of corn to announce her idea. “I think you should try your powers out again.” she exclaimed, seeming very pleased with herself. Diego had to resist the urge to facepalm. “Why would I do that?” he instead replied. She knew he didn’t like to be reminded of his powers’ disappearance. It was embarrassing, he still felt himself blush whenever he remembered his first attempts since being admitted. Lila rolled her eyes, as though what she was thinking was the most obvious thing known to man. “You said it’s because they’re drugging you,” she looked down at her food and grimaced, remembering Richard’s advice the other day “but you’re used to the drugs now, right?” Diego nodded, he had definitely built a tolerance. He still felt weird as hell, but it wasn’t so overwhelming. “Give it a shot!” she commanded, shoving her paper cup into his hand. He looked down at it with his brow furrowed, trying to decide if he should even attempt it.

Fuck it, Diego thought, it’s worth a try. He scanned his vision across their cafeteria, trying to find an achievable target. It couldn’t be too far, that would just be unrealistic, and he couldn’t do his usual turning around corners either. It also couldn’t be so close that it could simply be a fluke. His gaze settled upon someone’s empty jello pot two tables across. Diego closed his eyes, trying to internally psyche himself up. He could do this, he could do this in his sleep. Lila and Richard watched on, Lila finding Diego’s nervousness quite amusing. Diego threw his cup, attempting to control it with his power like he used to. His brain focused intensely on shoving it towards the jello pot. He was concentrating so hard a trickle of blood fell from his nose. The paper cup landed right on the edge of the jello pot, barely a millimetre from toppling off. Lila let out a shriek of excitement, whilst Richard gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. _Holy shit_ , his power worked again... well, _almost_. Maybe he just had to train it up again, like they did as kids. That was probably one of the only things Hargreeves got right, for Diego.


	10. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego works on rebuilding the strength of his power, and reminisces about his mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW descriptions of a bloody injury

Over the last few days, they’d been practicing Diego’s power as much as possible. Lila had found it highly entertaining to make it into a sort of competition. Diego was quite surprised by how good her aim was. She had shrugged and told him she played darts a lot as a kid. He didn’t really have her down as the _darts_ type, but he supposed he didn’t really know a thing about the chick. He wished he did.

“Why don’t you try and get a pen right in the middle of both of Jesus’ hands?” Lila giggled excitedly. Richard didn’t look impressed. Lila and Diego had been steadily stealing a selection of pen’s from their doctors and nurses, they were hoping no one would start to notice. Pens were ideal for Diego’s practice.

“Too soon.” Richard remarked, which made both Lila and Diego snort in a very undignified manner. What year did the man think it was?

“Oh please, it’s nineteen-sixty-three _after death_.” Lila smirked as she wrapped a playful arm around Richard. The sight made Diego jealous, he wanted to be that close to her. Maybe he’d have to start the whole messiah shtick too.

—

“What do you think that might be a metaphor for?” today’s nurse asked during group. She was gentle, unlike nurse bitch, but she wasn’t as kind as the nurse that reminded him of mom. He didn’t know how to feel about this one. Her name was Jackie, which only Diego found funny.

“I don’t think it’s a metaphor for anything, she’s _literally_ an android.” Diego seethed, trying not to get himself too worked up. Today’s orderlies weren’t particularly nice. How many times did he have to tell these people his mom wasn’t human? He really didn’t want to think about that, or about her in general. It hurt too much. How could he turn his own mom off? Nurse Jackie looked quite frustrated as she jotted down her notes. Group was such a terrible idea, who thought it would be good to be forced to share your secrets with strangers? 

She stopped her scrawling, and looked over to Diego with an unreadable expression. “That’s impossible, Diego.” He wanted to tear his own hair out. This was excruciating. “Maybe your mother was cold, emotionless?” she pondered earnestly. Diego wanted to throw a pen directly into her eye. How dare she suggest that his mom was anything but loving and supportive. She was perfect, and just because she was an android doesn’t mean she couldn’t love her kids like any other mother. 

“No, that definitely isn’t the case.” he replied sternly. Diego flicked his vision over to the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes left, surely she’d move onto someone else soon... he didn’t want to think about mom. 

_Number Two’s power betrayed him, as his knife flew around like a boomerang straight back at him. He barely had time to panic before the searing hot sting of a blade split through his scalp. He yelled out in pain, dropping down to the floor. It hurt so much, he’d never felt pain like it. Not even that time One accidentally broke his leg in hand-to-hand training. The blood was running down his face, mixing with his tears. It spread into his mouth as he sobbed, the taste of iron making him feel nauseous. His hand was gripped tightly over the wound, as if that would force it to close._

_“Number Two!” their father barked, marching over to peer down at his son. “This is unacceptable.” he bent down and snatched away Two’s hand so he could assess the damage “You’re too well trained to make these foolish mistakes.” his father scolded, as though Two were a misbehaving dog. Their dad abruptly dropped Two’s hand, causing it to fall and smack down on the still searing wound. Two winced and bit back a shriek, dad wouldn’t be happy with that. “Grace,” their father yelled stoically “clean up Number Two at once.” He stormed away, ushering Seven to follow along. She looked down at Two with clear distress. “Number Seven!” their father hollered, clearly irate that Seven lingered to look over her brother. Seven sorrowfully stepped over Two, just as their father had._

_—_

_Their mom brushed Two’s cheek with her spare hand, her other brandishing a needle. “It’s okay, sweetie.” she cooed, sensing Two’s intense distress. “How about I tell you a story, hm?” she offered gently, a whimsical smile on her face. Two didn’t even attempt to speak, he just answered with a forced grin - his mom knew it meant yes, she knew him better than anyone. She removed her hand from her son’s cheek, and placed it within his. Two linked his fingers between hers, and she softly squeezed - her smile growing stronger._

_“A long time ago, there once was a young Prince,” she placed the needle through Two’s scalp, beginning his stitches. Two clenched her hand so hard that it would’ve hurt if she were human. “he was a very brave boy,” she momentarily paused her stitching to give Two a loving glance “and he saved lots of damsels... he was a master with swords, he would duel all the bad men.” Two winced harshly, the pain growing stronger with each stitch. “He would always win.” she said enthusiastically, giving Two a cheeky grin. “He made all of his kingdom proud...” she rubbed her thumb rhythmically over his hand, distracting him with the sensation. Tears dripped down Two’s face as he looked up at his beautiful mother, and knew he was deeply loved. Maybe not by anyone else, but definitely by his mom... she loved him so much that it made up for all the love he missed out on._

—

Diego had been feeling pretty down since group, he hadn’t really been in the mood to practice his power. It just reminded him of what he’d lost. Richard was hanging around with some shy kid, so Diego finally had some time alone with Lila. They were huddled together, trying their hand at origami. “Why are you helping me practice? You don’t even believe I have powers...” Diego inquired, feeling quite bashful. Lila looked up at him, pausing the folding of her paper. She looked regretful.

“I don’t need to believe you to support you,” she smiled sweetly at him “plus, it’s pretty fun.” Lila giggled, waggling her eyebrows playfully. “You are pretty good at it...” she looked back down to her paper, Diego wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be. It looked kind of like a samurai hat.

“You give me some pretty good competition,” Diego chuckled softly “impressive...” he only just managed to prevent himself from winking at her, but the flirtation was still definitely implied. Lila rolled her eyes mischievously. Diego finished his paper airplane. It wasn’t exactly creative, but it would be good to practice his aim with. Well, that’s what he’d thought - until Lila snatched it from him.

“I have an _amazing_ idea!” she squealed impishly. Her eyes were manic. Diego was bracing himself for something insane. “ _I’ll_ throw it, but _you_ try to control it!” Diego groaned. He wasn’t expecting it to be _that_ insane. 

“It doesn’t work that way.” he explained, even though he knew she would force him anyway.

Lila did a childish chicken impression, Diego raised an eyebrow - trying not to let his amusement show. “Oh come on,” she moaned “I thought you said it was a type of mind-control, telekinesis!” she gestured wildly around Diego’s brain. He half heartedly shook his head. It couldn’t hurt to humor her. “Fine.” he replied. Lila clapped giddily, and rubbed her hands together with excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone tell I love Grace lol


	11. The Grassy Knoll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s just say Diego was having a bad day ): the stress getting the better of him, but he may be on to a breakthrough surrounding JFK...

“I don’t know,” Diego nibbled on his nail, a habit he’d grown out of but recently regressed back into “I think it was something to do with communism...” Goddammit he wished he’d paid more attention in Pogo’s lessons. He wasn’t really in to this kinda stuff anyway, but Diego was sure they barely got taught about JFK’s assassination.

“The gunman or the president?” Paul asked, sitting literally and metaphorically on the edge of his seat. He enjoyed hearing Diego’s _“delusions”_ , said it made group more interesting. Apparently he was missing his TV shows and needed the entertainment from somewhere. 

“I...” Diego stalled, how in the hell was he going to stop this thing when he barely knew anything about it. He’d probably picked up more from pop culture than he had from the academy. “The gunman... _alleged_ gunman.” Nurse Jackie was looking firmly unimpressed. “Or maybe he was a Marxist, I don’t know...” the more he thought about the assassination, the less it made sense. How did all these loose ends tie in together? Something wasn’t adding up, and it wasn’t just the CIA conspiracy...

Paul opened his mouth excitedly but Nurse Jackie threw a hand out to stop him. “Paul, please stop encouraging these thinking patterns.” she scolded, though not maliciously. Paul shrugged and shuffled back into his seat bashfully. “Your ideas are manic, Diego,” she looked straight into his eyes, though her own were almost expressionless “First it’s a gangster, next it’s a communist, then it’s the CIA.” she flicked through her notes that were resting on her lap “Now why would the CIA kill our own president?” she asked earnestly. Diego couldn’t help but snort, Lila met his eye and seemed to be holding back a giggle.

—

The closer it got to 11.22.63, the more Diego couldn’t stop thinking about the president. He had to stop it, clearly that would alter time enough to fix the chaos twenty-nineteen brought. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Flipping through his newspaper, Diego read there was some bad blood between the liberals and the conservatives, but that wasn’t anything he didn’t expect. It was still like that in twenty-nineteen. There was something he was missing here... there had to be something. His siblings still weren’t in the news either, which was growing more distressing with each day that they weren’t there. He couldn’t understand it, how was it only him? His siblings are fucking insane, Luther is literally _part gorilla_ , or some shit. 

“I think it’s the grassy knoll...” he mumbled, more to himself than his doctor. “Oswald couldn’t have done it... doesn’t make sense...” he was still staring at the newspaper even though he was no longer reading it, his thoughts were racing a million miles a minute. “I just need to get on the grassy knoll...” he nibbled on his nail, biting hard enough to make his finger bleed. He missed his leather gloves, they always stopped him from doing this. He shoved his head in his hands, none of this made sense. How could he connect Jack Ruby, the CIA, and communists? It _didn’t make sense_. How could he stop it when he didn’t even understand it? It just wasn’t adding up, and then adding the Umbrella Academy to the mix... their landing here must’ve been meant to be... but why? Who, or _what_ killed JFK, and how did it connect to them and the apocalypse? Diego realised there was a trickle of blood falling down his hand. He’d have to get there early, first thing in the morning. He could hunker down somewhere, scope out all of the people who came. He could disarm someone in his sleep.

“Son,” Nicholson announced with a slightly raised voice, loud enough to pull Diego from his spiralling thoughts. “There’s something we need to discuss...” he offered a sympathetic smile. Diego felt himself start to panic. He’d seen One Flew Over The Cuckoos’ Nest. They weren’t gonna electrocute him, or shove things in his brain. He’d kill them first. “I just want to make sure you’re aware,” Nicholson paused to flick open his lighter and light his cigarette “that you ain’t gonna be outta here by the twenn’y-second.” Diego shot his head up fully, glowering at his doctor with barely contained rage. 

“What the fuck do you mean I’m not gonna be out of here?!” he yelled, absolutely seething. This was goddamn ridiculous, how long were they going to keep him here? They weren’t actually going to keep him here for much longer, were they?! What if he missed the assassination and couldn’t save the world, he could be left to rot in here for the rest of his life. All whilst his siblings were missing... Nicholson had a quirked eyebrow, looking like he was expecting this reaction. There were no orderlies in the session today, Diego hadn’t lost his shit in here for a while - they’d trusted him to be alone. Maybe that could work in his favor... 

“There ain’t a chance in hell you’re bein’ released on or before the twenn’y-second.” Nicholson murmured, blowing a huge cloud of smoke from the side of his mouth. “You would be a severe risk to yourself,” he tapped some ash from his precious cigarette “and the general public.” His doctor looked regretful, like telling a small child they couldn’t get their favorite candy because it had too much sugar. Diego was grinding his teeth to dust, trying to decide whether it would be worth it to jump over the desk and punch the man. Instead, he remembered he somewhat had control of his powers again. He slid out a stolen pen he’d had tucked in his pocket, and threw it directly at Nicholson’s glasses, shattering one of the lenses. It wasn’t the lens he was aiming for, but it gave the same effect - his doctor didn’t have to know... Nicholson tentatively pulled his spectacles off, staring down at them like they were a bomb about to detonate. Miraculously, no glass had gotten in his eye, just a little on his cheek. Diego was relieved about that, he was frustrated and angry, but he did quite like the guy. He didn’t want to _blind_ him. 

“I _told you_ I had powers!” Diego sneered at his doctor, furiously pointing his finger in his direction. “See,” he jumped up from his seat, leaning over his doctor’s desk, pointing right at the lens “that’s proof, explain that!” he bitterly chuckled. Two orderlies burst in the door and Diego cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

He swivelled around and punched the first orderly in the face, before he’d even had a chance to grab him. He quickly kicked the back of his legs, sending him into a heap on the floor. The second orderly was a huge brutish bastard, he marched over and grabbed Diego’s arm trying to twist it into being restrained. Diego grabbed Nicholson’s fountain pen from his desk, and shoved it into the orderlies arm, letting out a bitter laugh. He thought of it as payback for the times they stabbed that huge fucking needle into _his_ arm. Maybe he jinxed things though, as Nurse Jackie strode into the room - needle in hand. Diego momentarily panicked, could he beat up a woman? Maybe if they were evil like Cha Cha... _don’t think about Eudora, don’t think about Eudora_ but not just any woman... his second of consideration was enough for the orderlies to overpower him, and the next thing he knew he felt like he was floating.

—

Diego sat slumped into his chair, head resting against the wall. He could barely bring himself to open his eyes. The world felt so large, and Diego felt so small. His movements felt like they were in slow motion, his limbs refusing to follow his brain’s orders. He opened his eyes ever so slightly, Lila was there. How long had she been there? How long had _he_ been there? How long ago was his session... was it the same day? His memories felt like they were buried in a deep layer of treacle.

“When d’you get out?...” Diego slurred, not fully certain if he’d managed to actually say it aloud or if it just was in his head still. Lila was so beautiful, even when he could only see her blearily. He hoped he didn’t say that aloud.

He decided to just let his eyes remained closed, having given up trying to force them open. He was sure he heard a snort. “Dunno...” Lila mumbled, she sounded like she was doing something, Diego wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was another friendship bracelet. Hopefully not. He didn’t really want her _friendship_.

“Me neither...” he drawled, trying desperately not to just fall asleep. “Need to escape.” he managed to murmur, hopefully there were no orderlies around them. Lila didn’t reply, maybe she nodded, Diego thought. “Escape with me?...” he whispered, on the verge of slipping into a deep, hazy slumber. His brain was so deep, and he was slipping further and further inside of it... drowning in his own consciousness. He hoped Lila said yes. He thought maybe someone was holding his hand now, was it Lila? _Please be Lila_ , he thought.


	12. Missing and Deceased

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overnight, the drugs force Diego into vivid dreams of his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if this needs a TW lol but ever so slightly graphic about Ben’s death, blood mentions etc etc

_“It’s a terrible shame...” their father muttered, looking up at Five’s newly erected portrait “that your brother has allowed his insolence to weaken the academy.” Their father glanced back down at his children, a distant look of rage in his eyes. Two felt his bottom lip wobbling, though he tried to control it. Dad would berate him for his weakness. Number Three let out a sniffle from Two’s left hand side. “Number Three, control yourself!” their dad commanded, raising his voice so loud even Pogo flinched._

_That evening, Two, Three, Four, and Six gathered secretly in Two’s bedroom. They spoke in hushed tones, and made sure to keep any crying as silent as possible. “Is he d-d-dead?” Two asked Four, a tear falling down his face. Four shook his head, his bottom lip quivering._

_“Will he ever come back?” Three whispered, her eyes shiny and red. No one answered, save for some sniffles. No one knew. Two wondered if he would ever see Five again. If he wasn’t dead, then where was he, was his fate worse than death? Six had tears running down his face, he hadn’t spoken since Five had vanished, they were always close. Two knew it was hard for him to contain his tentacles when he was emotional, he hoped he would be okay._

_“Dad doesn’t care, does he?” Four mumbled, nibbling on his nails. No one answered, though this time, it was because they all knew. The answer was no._

Diego felt like he was weighed down with lead, he wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep. Was he in the academy, was he thirteen? He tried to shuffle from his bed, he wanted to find the others, search for Five. He couldn’t get up, it was like he was anchored to his bed. Had dad done this? His room looked so different... his vision was blurry and doubled but he was sure this wasn’t the academy... what was happening? His eyelids felt so heavy... drooping without his consent.

_Numbers One, Two, Three, and Four gathered silently in the car for their journey home from their mission. Numbers One and Two had been right there when it had happened, they’d watched helplessly as their brother was torn to pieces by the monsters within himself. They still had his blood on their skin and clothes. Diego was twisting a knife frantically, trying to distract himself from what he had just witnessed. Luther sat stiff like a puppet, unmoving, barely even blinking._

_Allison had entered just after Ben’s death. Diego had watched the blood drain from her skin, as she dropped to the floor and sobbed. Klaus had been the last to come across the scene, he’d wandered off whilst he was supposed to have been their lookout. His reaction had been similar to Allison’s, a sharp gasp escaping from his lips as he slumped against the wall in shock. He and Allison now sat in the car, trying to keep their sobbing silent, holding each other’s hands. Luther and Diego were more composed with their distress, dad had drilled that into them._

_Their father marched them up the steps of the academy, and commanded them to follow him into his study. Number Seven had wandered down the grand staircase, watching on with tears forming in her eyes. None of the others could bring themselves to look at her, so she was alone in her suffering. She didn’t even know what had happened, only that Ben hadn’t returned._

_They stood in front of their father, their brother’s blood still speckled across themselves, Allison and Klaus’ faces red from their tears. “Number Six is a great loss,” their father solemnly proclaimed “his power would have been invaluable in the most important missions, I am sure.” he stoically announced. Diego’s blood boiled with rage, something he assumed was felt in his remaining siblings, too. That was all they were to him, pawns. The missions came before their safety, and they always would._

_They were allowed to shower and change, but they were still required to have their evening meal. They marched to the grand dining room, all deathly pale - as though Ben’s death were contagious. Vanya was almost unresponsive, Diego assumed her anxiety had gotten the better of her and their father had had her medicated. None of the children could meet each other’s eyes. “Sit.” their dad commanded, and they all solemnly slipped into their chairs._

_None of the children had appetites, Diego wasn’t sure if he’d ever have one again. They picked at their food, pushing their venison around their plates. The sight of meat was turning Diego’s stomach, too reminiscent of the scene he had witnessed. It took everything inside of him to force down the vomit rising in his throat. Luther looked so small, for a boy so large. His posture was collapsing in on itself, a look of horror plastered on his face. Diego could only imagine how he looked. He’d been too afraid to look at himself in the mirror in the bathroom. Allison’s complexion was grey, her eyes puffy and haunted. Her hand shook as she held her fork. Klaus was almost as vegetative as Vanya, shuffling his food around his plate with absent and glassy eyes._

Ben was dead?! _Ben was dead_... had Diego been there? Did he witness it... when was this? Was it just now? Diego’s Brain was foggy, not even a lighthouse could search through his memories. He tried harder and harder to pull from the anchor that trapped him to his bed. The lead in his limbs was immeasurably heavy. He had to find Ben... save Ben... was it his fault? Diego fought with his eyes as they forced themselves shut. No, he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t go back. He escaped the academy, he got out. _He got out._

_As he sauntered to the bathroom once he’d awoken, Diego noticed his brother was absent from his room. This was unusual as he typically slept in. Diego didn’t think he’d ever been awake on time, never mind early. He’d been sneaking out and not returning for several days, but he would always at least tell one of them first. Since Ben died, it was usually Diego he told._

_Once he was showered and dressed, Diego made his way to the grand dining room with his siblings. “Did Klaus tell any of you that he was sneaking out?” he whispered, trying not to aim his question at Luther._

_Allison looked at him, a flash of worry lighting her face. “No...” she shook her head gently, turning behind her to where Vanya was dawdling a few feet behind “did he tell you?”_

_Vanya shook her head solemnly, she’d grown quieter since Five had left, and even quieter since Ben died. She hardly ever spoke now, not far from mute._

_The three siblings exchanged worried eye contact, fearing they would have another sibling to add to the list of missing or deceased. They entered the dining room, and marched to stand in front of their seats. Their father sauntered over, neglecting to look at his children._

_“Number Four will not be returning.” he informed them sternly “It is quite unfortunate...” Diego and his siblings shared brief, panicked eye contact “his powers would have been highly beneficial, though it appears he is determined to poison himself.” he apathetically uttered. “Sit.” he demanded, causing his remaining children to scurry into their seats. Diego decided he couldn’t stay any longer, he would leave as soon as he could. Perhaps that night. Their powers came before their lives and safety._

Diego used all of his might to drag his eyes open, he was determined not to slip into his hazy memories again, all of his experiences were slipping into one. Everything was happening at once. _Eudora... Mom... Five was gone... Ben was dead... his siblings were missing..._ Hargreeves never cared, he didn’t care about a single one of them. Diego couldn’t let himself sink back into his slumber. He didn’t want to go back there. He was here, he was... he was in 1963. His siblings were missing. He had to change things, he had to stop things... the assassination, he had to save JFK. Diego couldn’t let his family be torn apart again, couldn’t let them be torn from each other as Hargreeves had caused. His consciousness was slipping... his body growing heavier, he felt detached from his own being. They were torn apart again, just like when they were kids. It was their father’s fault then, could it be their father’s fault now?


	13. New Spectacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego deals with the aftermath of his last session with Nicholson, and works more through his realisation about their father. Something is troubling Lila.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry I haven’t been able to write for a few days! Thanks for all the support.

“I think it was my dad.” Diego admitted, sounding very matter of fact. He’d had time to contemplate his realisation - he was still quite drugged up, but not so much that his thoughts were totally incoherent. Diego still thought group was bullshit, and he knew they just thought he was crazy - but he needed to vent. 

The stern looking nurse they had today raised her eyebrow dubiously as she made a note. “You think your father is going to kill the president?” she repeated coldly.

Diego nodded his head nonchalantly. “Kill _ed_ , past tense.” he corrected, feeling rather irritated that no one would acknowledge the fact that he was from the future. “He’s not gonna do it this time, I’m gonna stop him.” Diego’s foot was bouncing up and down progressively faster. He was trying to control his anger, he was beginning to worry about what they would do to him if they considered his _“illness”_ intractable. Maybe he would lash out one too many times and he’d wake up lobotomised. 

Glancing over to Lila, she was nibbling on her fingernails. He thought she’d been looking rather sheepish for the past couple days, as hazy as Diego’s memory had been. Diego recognised her expression, it had flashed across Klaus’ face an abundance of times. It was guilt. He wasn’t sure what Lila would have to feel guilty for, though. Diego knew she was evasive and would refuse to talk about her illness or even why she was here. He couldn’t decide whether he should try and talk to her about what it was that was troubling her.

—

After his last disastrous session, Diego was restrained to his chair today as he met with his doctor. He believed the prick orderlies had made the restraints extra tight just out of pure sadism. “How are you feeling?” Nicholson wondered with a frown, he was wearing new spectacles. They were almost the exact same, just brown frames rather than black. How was he _feeling_? How the fuck did his doctor think he felt?!

“What do you think?” Diego passive aggressively responded, narrowing his eyes at his doctor. It was hard to feel rage when he could barely feel anything given the amount of drugs they were forcing on him - but Diego knew the feeling was there. His doctor sighed gently and began to flick through Diego’s notes, licking his finger occasionally to assist his searching. 

“I hear your nurse says you think your father was the one who killed ‘im...” Nicholson absentmindedly mumbled as he shuffled around his papers. Diego looked away, staring out of the tiny little window instead. The weather looked miserable, the sky was as grey as Diego felt inside. “Why is that, son?” his doctor pondered curiously, pulling a sheet out of his notes and scanning through it.

Would it be the safer route to just lie? He imagined his theory would probably just make him seem more insane. He couldn’t be lobotomised. Diego knew he was an atrocious liar, he’d just end up looking shifty. “Just a hunch.” he mumbled bashfully, wishing his hands were freed so he could chew on his nails. He begged internally for his doctor not to question any further. Diego knew that was unlikely.

Nicholson put his paper down, pulled out a fresh sheet, and grabbed his pen. Not the pen Diego had shoved into an orderlies arm, that had most likely been thrown in the trash. Yuck. At least he didn’t have to look at it anymore and feel humiliated. “Do you think this could be your brain’s way of dealing with how he hurt y’all?” Nicholson suggested, surprisingly gently. A twang of guilt hit Diego, the man wasn’t a monster yet he could’ve _blinded_ him. Why did he always let his anger do this shit? The doctor took Diego’s moment of hesitation to place his pen back down and pull out a cigarette from the pack resting on his desk.

“No.” Diego bluntly replied, he needed to nip that theory in the bud. This wasn’t to do with that, this was _rational_ \- they just couldn’t understand. He wasn’t obsessed with JFK... it was just what he needed to do to stop the apocalypse from ever happening. “N-nothing to do with that.” Diego grumbled, trying to keep his sentences clipped so he wouldn’t have to embarrassingly stammer. It still made him wince, even when drugged excessively.

His doctor flicked his lighter closed and placed it back down, giving Diego a look that read _I call bullshit_. “You blame him for the death of Ben?” he asked, though really it was more of a statement. He already knew the answer. Diego offered a minute nod of his head. “You blame him for when...” Nicholson paused, he didn’t like to refer to Five as his name “Five... went missing.” he reluctantly obliged with the name he believed was abusive. Diego agreed with him on that, it _was_ abusive. Five only demanded to keep his number because he was a stubborn bastard. “You blame him for all the other things that went wrong with y’all,” Nicholson tapped some ash into its tray “would it be out of the realm o’ possibility that that’s why you blame him for JFK’s supposed assassination?” he drawled. 

Yes, it was out of the fucking _realm of possibility_ , Diego thought. He was clenching his jaw like a vice, trying to stop himself from snapping at the man. Unable to bring himself to speak, Diego offered a bitter hum of disagreement instead. 

—

As they sat peering down at their definitely disgusting, and probably drugged dinner - Diego couldn’t stop thinking about Lila’s mood. Was it all just because of whatever mental illness she suffered from? Maybe bringing it up would just upset her. He glanced across to Lila, and saw her looking torn up, scooping peas onto her fork. “Is everything okay?” Diego whispered, leaning in probably a bit too close. He didn’t mind, he quite liked it. 

A scoff escaped Lila, at least Diego knew she was still feeling up to her usual sarcastic nature. “I’m fine.” she clearly lied, as she shoved her fork into her mouth. Diego realised he should probably eat too, even though he really didn’t want to. He copied Lila, going for the peas first. It was probably impossible to drug peas.

“You just seem... down.” Diego muttered once he’d swallowed his mouthful. He grimaced slightly at the subject of the conversation, he usually refused to discuss emotions in any shape or form. He didn’t like them, didn’t know how to deal with them. He could barely cope with his own emotions, never mind someone else’s. Especially when that someone else was clearly quite troubled. 

Lila granted Diego a second of eye contact, but glanced back down to her tray solemnly. “Do you remember what you said?” she murmured quietly, not having the politeness to swallow her mouthful first. Diego thought that was fucking gross but he’d let it slide. He’d probably let a lot of things slide when it came to Lila. He squinted at her in confusion, trying to wrack his hazy brain for whatever the hell she was referring to. 

“That my dad killed JFK?” he confusedly replied, forgetting to keep his voice down. He knew everyone was crazy in the cafeteria anyway, but he didn’t want the orderlies to hear. They’d probably tell the nurses and the doctors, backing up their opinion that his belief was obsessive. Diego looked around his shoulders nervously, before leaning back in to Lila.

A petty roll of her eyes was how Lila responded to Diego’s question. He worried she was growing sick of the whole JFK thing too, he didn’t want to lose her because of it. “No...” she flitted her eyes across the room, scanning around them to make sure they couldn’t be heard. Lila leaned in even closer than they already were. Close enough to... Diego gently shook his head to himself. He needed to keep his head in the game, it wasn’t like he could just start making out with her in the fucking nuthouse cafeteria. _Could he make out with her in another room?_ Lila was glaring at him as she usually did when Diego zoned out. He hated these drugs, they made him so spaced out - getting lost in his own thoughts. “You asked me to escape with you...” she whispered in his ear, he could feel her breath on his skin. He had to remind his brain that that wasn’t the important part, the crucial information was that _he had asked her to escape with him?_


	14. Them Cubans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego thinks more about the feelings he’s developing for Lila, and recalls the first time he remembered meeting patch.

Diego knew he should probably be focusing on what Lila had told him yesterday. It was kind of important. But... he couldn’t stop thinking about _Lila_ herself, rather than whatever harebrained plan they were going to concoct. As they sat in group now, Diego didn’t even know what it was being discussed - all he could concentrate on was her. She seemed a little less on edge now she’d confessed what he’d asked of her in his drugged up haze. He couldn’t understand how she managed to look so beautiful in those white scrubs. Everyone else, Diego included, just looked like lunatics - but she could pull them off. Diego kinda wished he could pull them off her... he bit his cheek to stop himself from snickering at that thought. It probably wouldn’t be well received to start chuckling whilst someone was telling a traumatic tale. 

Landing in 1963, and getting locked up in a sanitarium, was the last time or place Diego expected to meet someone he would grow feelings for. He hadn’t felt this way since Eudora, they had a rocky relationship - on again, off again. When they finally broke up for good, Diego couldn’t move on. He tried, he wasn’t a goddamn monk, but he just couldn’t find someone he cared for like he cared for Eudora. It was too soon to say he cared for Lila this way, he’d practically just met her - and he honestly knew almost nothing about her. He knew she was British, but that was purely because of her accent. Should that be a cause for concern? Diego thought it should be, but he didn’t care... he was drawn to her anyway. Thinking of Eudora made a deep well open up in his stomach, dragging all the life from him. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t told her to be a fucking idiot just like him, she wouldn’t have just barged in alone. She deserved so much better. 

_”Excuse me,” Diego lifted his sights to locate the voice, his heart was already sinking - he loathed to be recognised. “are you...” the beautiful girl murmured, brow furrowed as she stared at his face, trying to place him “Miguel’s friend?” she finally muttered with a grin. A huge weight was lifted from Diego’s chest. He couldn’t deal with being stopped by so called fans any longer. He didn’t want the reminder._

_Smirking back at her, Diego nodded his head - taking in the glorious sight in front of him. He didn’t recognise her, he was pretty sure he’d remember a girl that hot. “Do I... know you?” he tentatively asked, unable to wipe the sly grin from his face._

_The girl had a very similar expression across her own face, looking down at her shoes for a moment to giggle. “I’m Eudora, we met at his party.” she explained gently. That made sense. Diego had been _wasted_. He was still getting used to alcohol, it wasn’t something he’d ever indulged in whilst he was living at the academy - despite Klaus’ freaking peer pressure. A wince flashed on Diego’s face as he realised he probably made a fool of himself, considering how drunk he had been. Eudora raised an amused eyebrow, placing a hand against her hip. “Lightweight.” she teased. Diego chuckled as response, she was right. _

_“At least I don’t got to buy as many drinks.” he boasted with a shrug of his shoulders. Eudora’s smile grew smug as she tucked a strand of waved hair behind her ear. “Oh, I don’t have to buy drinks.” she giggled, looking herself up and down “I get them bought for me.”_

_Diego took a step closer towards her, looking her up and down just like she had done to herself. “Maybe I could buy you one...” he murmured even though he was underage, he would’ve winked had that not been incredibly cheesy. “Just one?” she teased, closing the gap between them. Neither of them cared that they were in the middle of the sidewalk. The other people could amble around them. All Diego could see was Eudora, and he could see in her eyes that she felt the same way._

A small paper cup being shoved under his nose broke Diego from his memories. He pulled his head up from where it had apparently been in his hands. His gaze was met by the nurse, the one who reminded him of his mom. _Why did he have to go and think of his mom?_ Diego noticed there were tears running down his face, which was utterly humiliating. “Th-thank you.” he mumbled, slowly unclenching his fist and taking the cup. There was only one pill inside, and Diego could tell it was a tranquilizer. He’d come to learn what the different ones looked like. Diego didn’t mind these pills so much, they were preferable to the anti psychotics; those made him feel _rough_. His breath kept catching in his chest, coming out in pathetic little starts. Maybe he needed the pill. Diego placed it into his mouth, and anxiously looked around the rest of the group. They were all staring at him, he felt like an animal in an enclosure at the zoo. “Fuck off.” he grunted, narrowing his eyes at the fellow patients.

—

“Yeah, I can pick locks.” Diego mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open. Lila nodded excitedly. She looked so hot when she was excited. “Why the hell haven’t you done that before?” she mocked with a playful grin. If anyone else had said that, Diego probably would’ve punched them. “Do I _look_ like I’m able to pick locks like this?” he moaned, shoving out his shaking hand. He wasn’t all that brilliant at picking locks in the first place, he hadn’t really used that skill a great deal throughout his twenties. He’d come to the decision that he would just climb through windows or knock down doors. The skill could come back though, it was like riding a bike. “Maybe we should practice, like with your power?” Lila suggested, busying herself with the tower of cards she was building. That actually wasn’t a terrible idea... Diego dopily nodded his head in response.

They were plotting in hushed tones, but they unfortunately weren’t having to lean in to one another - the corner of this room was almost deserted. Looking down at the floor awkwardly, Diego’s drugged consciousness decided it would be great to shyly ask her about when he’d invited her to escape “Did you hold my hand?” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her after he’d asked, but the house of cards came dramatically toppling down. “No!” she scoffed defensively, looking quite flustered when Diego glanced back to her. “Are we twelve?” she teased with a roll of her eyes. Diego shuffled closer to help her pick up the fallen cards, not that he was much use - his movements were too lazy. As he handed a card over to Lila, their hands brushed together - Diego almost felt a spark of electricity. They both awkwardly pulled their hands away, as though the other were a leper. “Thanks...” Lila murmured, purposefully not meeting Diego’s eye.

—

Nicholson was pestering him, trying to find out what caused Diego’s _”episode”_ in group. He wasn’t going to get an answer. Diego didn’t want to start spiralling down that particular spire once again. “Can we talk about something else?” Diego grunted, glaring at his doctor. Nicholson lifted his spectacles slightly to tiredly rub at his eyes with his finger and thumb. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you’re thinkin’.” he drawled wearily, placing his spectacles back down on his nose. Had this guy seriously not worked out yet that Diego didn’t _want_ his help?

He had to keep his cool, couldn’t get all riled up. Diego couldn’t wake up with his brains all scrambled to mush. “Don’t need your help. I’m not crazy.” he mumbled, fiddling with his scrub top as he wished it were a knife he was fidgeting with instead. It was frustrating that all the actually crazy people in here were protesting their sanity, too. It didn’t help Diego’s credibility. “I’m really not feeling too good, can I finish early?” he pleaded, knowing he looked pitiful and not even caring. He was done giving a shit for today. Nicholson released a gentle sigh, turning to glance at his clock. Diego should’ve been here for twenty more minutes, he doubted the doctor would agree to his suggestion. Nicholson gazed back to Diego, taking in how downtrodden and exhausted he looked. He probably could guess they weren’t going to get anywhere in this session anyway. “Just don’t cause no trouble.” he instructed with an authoritatively raised eyebrow.

—

Diego couldn’t find Lila, which was ridiculous since there weren’t that many places for her to be. He assumed he was just too drugged up to notice her, but then again, why wouldn’t she notice him wandering around? Maybe she was in her own session with Dr Henderson... “He’s probably a commie.” George chuckled from where he was playing cards a few paces away - clearly not noticing the devil he spoke of had appeared. It had taken a while for Diego to get used to being called a _”commie”_ , he’d at first wondered what fucking year it was - but then he remembered he was literally in 1963.

“I hear them Cubans were planning to kill the president.” a kid he was playing with shyly proclaimed. George stuck an agreeable finger in the kid’s direction. “He _did_ say his daddy was the one to do it!” he exclaimed. Why was it the only people who believed Diego were the ones so nutty that they invented their own conspiracy theories around him?!

Traipsing over to their table, Diego announced “My _daddy_ was an old white man.” as he smugly leaned over their shoulders. “And I’m _Mexican_.” he spat, feeling fed up of people assuming he was Cuban. He barely even felt like a Mexican, he’d had all of his culture erased by Hargreeves - it was a topic he was rather sensitive about. The kid made a comical gulp, causing Diego to snort as he stood back up fully.

Ambling away, he decided he’d leave them to their gossiping. He caught sight of Richard on his journey across the room. “Jesus,” Diego whistled, Richard turned to him with a small grin “you seen Lila?” he called, making his way over to his only other friend.

“Oh...” Richard winced “she was real upset, went into the restroom crying, I wanted to follow her in but I didn’t want the orderlies getting the wrong idea.” he scratched the back of his head bashfully. Diego gently patted him on the shoulder, smiling down at his friend. “Thanks.” he replied as he walked towards the restrooms. Diego didn’t give a shit if the orderlies thought he was a peeping tom, they thought he was batshit anyway.

Just to be safe, Diego checked over his shoulders before pushing open the door and entering the restroom. It looked almost the exact same as the men’s room, minus the urinals. The only other occasion Diego had been in a ladies room, it looked like The Ritz next to the bathrooms he was used to. At least they were all equally neglected in this place. “Lila?” he called, hoping there weren’t any other women in here. That would be mortifying. He could hear a sniffle coming from one of the stalls, so he tentatively made his way over. He hadn’t really thought this through, he didn’t know what he was going to say. He couldn’t deal with emotions - why did he think this was a good idea? “You okay?” he stupidly whispered against the door.

“I’m obviously having a laugh, aren’t I?” she quipped, though it sounded flat and humorless. Diego leaned his weight against the door, rather liking not having to support himself fully. He was too tired to even stand up properly. “Do you wanna... talk about it?” he nervously inquired, knowing he sounded like an imbecile. The click of the lock suddenly sounded, causing Diego to fall on her when she opened the door. She was a fierce woman, but goddamn tiny. Diego pulled himself back and grabbed her shoulders anxiously, trying to see if she had been crushed. “Don’t flatter yourself.” she teased grumpily, shuffling past him to make her way to the sinks. 

”I just want to help.” he gently admitted as he watched her wash her face, trying to wipe away the evidence of her tears. “You can’t.” she grunted under her breath as she pulled her head up. Diego sauntered over to the paper hand towels, grabbing a few for her so she could dry herself. She smirked slightly and accepted his offering. “Such a gentleman.” she snorted as she pulled the scratchy paper across her face. Lila threw the paper towels into the garbage can across the room. Diego looked from it and to her, feeling seriously impressed. “Man, you make me look shitty...” he enviously announced, still feeling kind of humiliated that his power wasn’t fully back to normal.

Lila grew slightly wide eyed for a moment, before playfully whacking Diego on the arm. “What was that for?!” he chuckled, looking down at her and seeing her eyes once again turning gloomy. He wished he could help her. “Stop being a dick to yourself.” she demanded softly, her hand still resting on Diego’s shoulder. “That’s kinda hard when I got _you_ being a dick to me too.” he joked with a sly smirk, barely being able to stop himself from brushing away the piece of her bang that was covering her eye slightly. Lila flitted her gaze across Diego’s face, whilst he did much the same with hers. Would it be so bad if he kissed her?

“Out, Hargreeves!” an orderly yelled as he swung open the restroom door. Lila and Diego hastily pulled away from one another. He spared Lila a quick coy smile before turning to follow the orderlies command. “This ain’t a hotel.” the orderly complained as Diego shuffled through the door he was holding open.


	15. Lollipops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego reflects on his tattoo and his growing fear of being lobotomised. He and Lila grow closer...

Moving his gloopy oatmeal around his bowl, Diego looked down into it with disgust. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Diego grumbled, not liking the sound of Lila’s suggestion to purposefully got thrown in a padded cell so he could practice picking locks. She huffed pettily, leaning over the table to stick her spoon in his bowl and steal some of his breakfast. “Help yourself.” he scoffed, pushing his bowl over to her side of the table. Fucking weirdo, Diego thought. He liked it though. 

“It’s just a room, what harm could it do?” Lila mumbled casually through a mouthful of oatmeal. Diego raised an eyebrow of disbelief, she really had no manners. “Look,” he grunted, running a hand through his rapidly lengthening hair. “there’s this movie, _okay_?” he stated, knowing he sounded rather unhinged. “You haven’t seen it, it didn’t come out yet.” Lila looked up from their communal oatmeal to smirk at him. Diego could never work out if she actually believed him or not, her actions were so hard to decipher. As she looked into his eyes, Diego completely lost his train of thought. Maybe it was partly to do with the sedatives, but her irises made him melt...

“Well?!” Lila brashly inquired, playfully irritated that he hadn’t gotten to his point. Diego cleared his throat, looking down at the table bashfully. Hopefully it wasn’t obvious he just practically drooled over her. It wouldn’t even be far fetched for him to literally drool, these pills were turning his brain to mush. “It’s this guy in a sanitarium, he’s not crazy but he keeps calling them out on their shit, right?” Lila nodded, keen to know what this was leading to. Diego harshly shoved his index fingers into his forehead. “They stuck shit into his brain, turned him into a vegetable.” he hissed, feeling quite distressed at the mere thought that that could happen to him one day. Lila scoffed through her mouthful. “What difference would that make?” she teased. Diego couldn’t help but smirk, but it didn’t close up the well of fear building in his stomach. 

—

“Why do you do that, son?” Nicholson inquired, pulling Diego from his thoughts. It was really more a _lack_ of thoughts, all he could focus on was staring blankly at the bleak office walls. Diego frowned with confusion, following his doctor’s gaze down to his arm. Diego had his hand clasped over his opposite wrist, covering the torturous stain he’d been forced to endure by Hargreeves. 

Why _did_ he do that? “Force of habit, I guess...” he grumbled, staring down at the washed out umbrella groggily. “People recognise it.” he mumbled, cringing thinking of all the times he’d accidentally flashed it in public and had some prick come over and ogle. Diego wore long sleeves every day, no matter the weather. Even with them on he was constantly pulling his sleeve down, paranoid the tattoo would pop out. He even wore long sleeves when he was alone at home, the only times he didn’t was when he was at the gym. He’d learnt his lesson after passing out. It wasn’t even like he could get it covered up, he’d been so traumatised he couldn’t face going near another needle. 

“Ain’t nobody gonna recognise it here.” Nicholson drawled, fiddling with an unlit cigarette in his fingers. Diego paused in thought, the man had a point. Goddammit, why did he have to keep making decent points?! Diego wanted to hate the man, wanted to feel so angry he could kill him - that would make him easier to cope with. That’s how things usually went for Diego. He offered a short, dispirited hum of agreement to his doctor. “You said you were thirteen?” Nicholson murmured as he shuffled through his stack of notes. Diego didn’t want to fucking talk about it. Nicholson glanced over to Diego expectingly, raising his eyebrows as a prompt to answer. “Thirteen.” Diego grunted as his confirmation.

_”Numbers One to Six please report to the main parlour immediately.” Pogo announced through the telecom. The children turned to glance at one another, all as intrigued as each other. They’d just had training, and their scheduled educational lessons were supposed to begin soon. The drill mission bell hadn’t rang, and their father had told them they weren’t yet ready to go on actual missions._

_The children all shuffled from behind their classroom desks, and made their way towards the hallway. “Do you think he’s letting us have a break?” Six wondered, face gleaming with hope. One shrugged, seeming utterly unsure._

_“Dad wouldn’t give us a break even if we were dead.” Five scoffed, waltzing to the front of the gaggle like he owned the place. Two was kind of jealous of Five’s confidence._

_One looked down to scowl at Five, clearly unimpressed by him bad talking their father. “That’s not true.” he muttered, sounding personally offended and hurt. Five obnoxiously shrugged his shoulders back at One._

_“Maybe it’s the newspapers!” Three squeaked, almost jumping up and down. She turned to glance at Four, but he looked down to the floor nervously. Three rolled her eyes at her brother’s rudeness. “Dad said he was taking us public soon, it makes sense.” she confidently exclaimed, linking her arm through Four’s despite his sullen mood._

_As they approached the staircase, One was the tallest and could see down into the parlor first. “There’s a man down there.” he murmured, peering over the banister._

_“Duh.” Two grumbled, wondering how stupid One was. Of course dad would be there, he was the one who freaking called for them!_

_One lightly shoved Two, neglecting to use his super strength. “Not dad,” he groaned “some guy with...” he leaned over the bannister more, enough for Six to worriedly yank his school jacket incase he were to fall._

_“...drawings on his skin.” Three mumbled, from where the rest of the children were now also leaning over the bannister. Six and Five had to stand on their tiptoes, which Two was intending to tease them for._

_“Come down at once!” their father barked, glaring up at them from the parlour. The children stilled, nervously shuffling away from the bannister. Two shared a worried look with Six as they made their way down the staircase. Four was dragging behind, looking petrified. Two thought he was being dumb, this couldn’t be much worse than what their training usually was. Three grabbed Four by the arm again, and pulled him down the stairs with her. Three pushed through to the front, eager to find out what was happening - Four sorrowfully stumbled by her side._

_As they made their way down the stairs to stand in line, the children began to grow fearful when they saw the strange contraption - they stopped in their tracks, frozen in worry. “Is that a needle?” Five whispered to Six behind Two. Three and Four were inadvertently at the front. Two assumed their father would force them into numerical order like usual. Instead he gestured for Four and Three to approach him, them being the closest to the man. “Who’s going first?” he sternly inquired, not offering any explanation. Three and Four turned to look at one another, tears filling Three’s eyes and Four biting down on his lip. Two watched Three look Four over, taking in how downtrodden he already appeared. “Me.” she regretfully whispered as she looked up to their father._

_“Very well.” their dad muttered, placing a hand on Three’s back and guiding her to the chair. She plonked herself down, seeming on the verge of sobbing. The man rolled his chair closer to Three’s and placed a strange looking film on her arm. As he pulled it back, an emblem appeared... the umbrella they all knew very well. Three knew she couldn’t ask what was happening, none of them could, or so Two thought._

_“What is that?” Five grumbled, trying to stand on his toes to see over his sibling’s shoulders. Their father shushed him harshly. Five opened his mouth to predictably start an argument, but the buzzing the contraption began to make silenced him instantly. Three began to whimper as the machine touched her skin. Four was already crying as he watched, looking terribly guilty that he hadn’t gone first. Two felt himself begin to feel faint. He knew he was the closest after Four. He tried to shuffle backwards, to push to the back of the crowd of children, but their father stamped his cane on the ground. The children all flinched in fear. The man with the machine pulled back, peering down at the drawing on Three’s skin. He shrugged to himself and continued - the buzzing setting Two’s teeth on edge._

_—_

_As Two witnessed Four and Three sobbing together at the sidelines, he felt his blood run cold. He couldn’t go next, he didn’t want the drawing. He didn’t want the needle. “N-no, dad p-please.” he pleaded as their father guided him towards the man. “Please, I don’t w-w-want it.” he begged, growing more desperate. “Control yourself!” their father commanded as he shoved Two down into the seat. As the man placed the film on Two’s skin, he could barely bring himself to breathe. Two forced himself to use his secondary power, to hold his breath until this was over with. As the buzzing began once again, Two’s vision turned black._

Diego’s tattoo felt like a brand new burn against his skin as he recalled that day. He wasn’t even aware he had embarrassingly begun to cry, until tears dropped from his face and landed on his arm. The umbrella was aptly coated in drips. The concept of such a machine being forced on Diego only intensified his undercurrent of fears. He was terrified to wake up as a vegetable, to be forced kicking and screaming into being mutilated. “Would you tell me if you were going to lobotomise me?” Diego blurted abruptly, cutting off his doctor’s drawling psychoanalyses. Nicholson furrowed his brow, pausing his drag of his cigarette mid inhale. His doctor took a moment to blink lazily, trying to process Diego’s morbid interruption.

“Lobotomies are...” Nicholson drawled, stubbing his cigarette out “somethin’ we _try_ to avoid.” he explained, looking on at Diego with curiosity. Was he not supposed to know that word, was this proof that he was from the future?

“See! I’m from the future,” Diego wiped his face dry and pointed confidently at his doctor “ _proof_.” he exclaimed, eyes narrowed with smug determination. Nicholson sighed deeply, gazing to Diego with profound pity. “I think we may need to adjust your antipsychotics.” he sympathetically announced, picking up his pen to jot down some notes. Diego could’ve goddamn screamed. He figured that wouldn’t go down well, he shoved his head between his knees instead - tugging on his hair as a means to release his anguish. How the fuck was he ever going to get out of here?

—

“Not today, Lila.” he grunted as she playfully flung cards at his head with alarming precision. Diego was so jealous, she was just showing off at this point. Lila pouted like a child, leaning in closer across the table. Diego felt his heart beat grow faster as she grew nearer. “What is it?” she wondered with a rare expression of sincerity. Diego snorted, it seemed wrong for her to act serious.

Glancing down to his tattoo, he figured he might as well tell her. She knew everything else... mostly. “My tattoo.” he mumbled, struggling to focus on it with his blurred vision - he hated these goddamn meds. Lila reached over and placed her hand over it, causing Diego to stiffen like a puppet. He always found touch difficult to handle, it was overwhelming... and intimacy was much too close to emotions. She stroked her hand across his wrist, gazing over to him affectionately. “I like it.” she gently replied, running her finger across the outlines. Diego felt goosebumps rise on his arm, the puppet strings were cut.

“Figures.” he smirked slyly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist as she stroked his. “You’d like anything about me.” he teased, raising a mischievous eyebrow. Lila scoffed, though she didn’t remove her hand, if anything she moved it further along his arm, reaching the crook of his elbow.

“ _So_ bigheaded.” she mocked, leaning even closer in to him. Diego subtly flicked his vision across the room, trying to scope out if he could really get away with kissing her. He didn’t want to be caught and get separated, Diego couldn’t cope here without Lila. The other patients seemed occupied with their mindless tasks, playing cards and putting together jigsaws. Two orderlies were in the far corner of the room, though they seemed occupied by gossiping as they smoked. Diego gulped apprehensively, leaning in closer to Lila’s touch. He would’ve been embarrassed over his breathing growing heavier, but Lila’s was the same. Fuck it - he was so close, he could easily rest his forehead against hers. As he leaned in, he was hugely relieved that she did too.

Their breath gently hit each other’s lips as they pressed their head’s together. Diego’s heart was beating like a drum, terrified of getting caught but also completely enamoured by Lila. She smelled like strawberry lollipops, the ones she miraculous manages to find. Diego stifled a chuckle at the bizarre nature of her ability to source candy. “What?” she giggled gently, her breath tickling his lips. “You smell like stra-“ Diego had never been so fucking grateful to be interrupted in his life as Lila’s soft lips met his own.


	16. The Romans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego feels conflicted as Richard seemingly begins to suffer an episode, and he and Lila’s relationship comes to a confusing crossroads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight NSFW but it’s more of a plot thingy lol

As Diego brushed his teeth in the grungy shower room, he tried to psyche himself up to go out into the communal area and face Lila. Since they’d briefly kissed last night, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Diego wished they could’ve kissed for more than just a second. He thought he was enamoured by her before, but now it was like he knew what he was missing. Diego wasn’t a pervert or anything, he just... wanted to be with her. It was actually astounding that he was able to feel such things when he was as medicated as he was. Did he really feel for her _that_ intensely? Richard was to his side, staring into the mirror like it held the answers to the universe - maybe to him it did. “You okay?” Diego mumbled after he spat out his toothpaste. Richard didn’t reply, just continued to stare into his own eyes. “Jesus?” Diego nervously called, scared to startle him but also scared to leave him like this. What the hell do you say to a paranoid schizophrenic? 

Tentatively reaching out his hand, Diego gently patted his friend on the shoulder. He slowly turned to glance at Diego, though his eyes looked distant. He looked haunted, the only other time Diego had seen someone look this way - he was _legitimately_ being haunted. “You okay, bud?” Diego whispered, lightly placing his hands on Richard’s shoulders. He braced himself to jump backwards, just incase that was a dumb move. 

“They’re trying to kill me.” Richard murmured absentmindedly. Diego bit down on the inside of his lip, wondering how the fuck he responds to that. I mean... was he _wrong_? Had Diego not had the same thoughts about this place?

He should probably check Richard meant the sanitarium... “Who?” Diego inquired, trying to look into Richard’s eyes. They were technically making eye contact, but his friend’s eyes were staring right through him. A twang of guilt hit Diego as he realised this was how Ben must have felt for all of those damn years... “The romans.” Richard replied in a faraway manner. Diego sighed and looked down to their white plimsole donned feet. “I won’t let them kill you.” Diego softly declared, hoping his friend would be lucid enough to accept his promise.

“They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me.” Richard repeated dreamily. Diego closed his eyes with deep despair, he didn’t know how to help him. Richard continued to chant his paranoid beliefs. Was this what Diego sounded like to everyone else? Diego could go find an orderly or a nurse, but did he really want those brutish fucks messing with his friend? Who even knows what they’d do to him, they could strap him down and electrocute him - they could scramble his brains up into a soup. “They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. _They’re going to kill me_.” Richard declared with certainty, this time his voice held emotion - distress. Diego had to admit he didn’t know much about schizophrenia, but he knew things could get pretty ugly. “I’m s-sorry.” Diego murmured with a solemn smile as he let go of his friend’s shoulders and reluctantly hurried to find _so called_ help. He hadn’t felt this conflicted since the last time he had to make an impossible decision... to put his mom out of her misery.

—

Richard still hadn’t returned from wherever they’d taken him, and Diego felt immense guilt. He couldn’t decide if he had done the right thing. His absence had made the situation between Diego and Lila even more awkward, as they silently put together a jigsaw. The same one from the first time they met, Diego mournfully noticed. It felt so long ago, but like yesterday all at the same time. Diego wasn’t sure how much was the drugs blurring his memory, how much was the trauma, and how much was how mesmerised he found himself by Lila. Their hands brushed together, though unlike the other day - Lila flinched back.

“I have to go to the loo.” she blurted as she tore up from her chair and stormed out of the communal room. She seemed like there was something weighing heavily on her mind, Diego assumed it was mostly the worry about Richard - but he knew he was probably part of the problem too. Diego would’ve teased her over saying _“the loo”_ ordinarily, but it certainly wasn’t the right time. He chewed on his nails as he worried about Lila. Diego was scared of her spiralling down into one of her low moods again. He really wished he knew why she was here. It was his session with Nicholson soon, so he would have to address those thoughts later on. He was way too highly strung to handle Nicholson’s quack bullshit today.

—

“Do you know Richard?” Diego asked as soon as he walked into his doctor’s office. Nicholson raised an amused eyebrow at his brashness. Diego wasn’t in the mood for games. “Do you know him?” he grunted as he sauntered over to his chair. Nicholson clasped his hands over one another on his desk. 

“I can’t discuss other patients.” he stated bluntly, looking unimpressed by this start to the session. Diego slumped into his seat and glowered at his doctor, cracking his knuckles rhythmically. It was difficult to control his brewing anger, despite the various drugs they forced on him.

His hands were shaking severely, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of his rage or because of the damn antipsychotics. Diego felt quite lucky regarding his side effects, some of the other patients faired much worse. They looked like fucking zombies. “If you _hypothetically_ fucked with someone’s brain,” Diego angrily pointed his finger to his forehead, seething at his doctor “would they come back here or be moved to another unit?” It was hard to tell if the catatonic patients were like they were purely from their illnesses and medications, or if it was that they’d be lobotomised. Diego wasn’t sure how he wanted Nicholson to answer... he felt it might be harder to see his friend return as a ghost of himself than never return at all.

Nicholson rubbed at his own head, messing up the stray hairs that remained. He looked foolish, Diego would’ve probably laughed had he not wanted to cry. “No... they would go to another unit.” he admitted reluctantly. Diego ground his teeth so hard he heard his own ears rumble. Was that what he wanted his doctor to say? He didn’t goddamn know. It was so hard to keep track of his own thoughts, they were all melting into one pot of chaos. 

“Can I have a tranquilizer?” Diego grumbled, unable to bring himself to look up at his doctor from his shaky fists. He was loathing himself more and more for every time he actually _requested_ they drug him. He’d spent the better part of two decades giving his brother shit for it, and now he was doing it. What happened to his body being his temple? It was like he was losing all his morals in this goddamn shithole.

—

Neither of Diego’s friends were in the communal area when he staggered out of his session. A hopeful part of his brain had been telling him Richard would be waiting for him when he came out - but depressingly that wasn’t the case. Deep down, Diego knew it wouldn’t be. Where was Lila, though? She couldn’t still be in _“the loo”_. Maybe she was in her session. Diego leaned his weight against the wall, feeling too dozy to stand up fully. His eyes were so bleary and heavy. Leaning his head all the way back against the wall Diego let his eyes slip shut. “Hey, Castro.” an orderly whistled, yanking his head back down. Diego groaned roughly. “I’m not fucking _Cuban_!” he growled, knowing he would’ve definitely headbutted the bastard if he had been fully awake... lobotomies be damned. “Whatever,” the hick orderly scoffed dismissively “can’t just stand around here sleepin’.” he scolded as he sauntered away. 

Regretting taking the damn sedative, Diego nodded groggily and made his way to the restroom - hopefully splashing water on his face would help wake him up. A wash of guilt hit Diego as he wandered into the bathroom and saw mirrors, remembering the choice he had made that morning. Richard was probably drooling absently now, and it was all Diego’s fault. Diego decided he would rather just sleep than have to deal with thinking about that, so he trudged off towards one of the stalls. Diego grabbed some paper towels on the way over, so he didn’t have to put his pants on the damn toilet seat. Sleeping on a public toilet was fucking gross, but it would have to do.

—

“Oi, bellend.” Lila hissed through the door. Diego startled awake, banging his head off the tiled wall. He imagined that would’ve probably hurt, but he couldn’t really tell. “The fuck is a _bellend_?” he groaned as he unlocked the stall door. Lila rolled her eyes and leant against the door. “You.” she replied bluntly. Diego didn’t even know what the hell she just called him, but he assumed he should be offended. “You got something you need to tell me?” he teased, looking her up and down. “Why are you in the men’s room?” 

She sighed and dug her fingers into her scrunched up eyes. “For you, you fucking idiot.” she goaded wearily. Diego dragged himself up from the toilet, realising it was a bit weird to still be sat on it since he wasn’t high off his ass anymore. He felt so goddamn dizzy as he stood. “What?” he grumbled as he crossed his arms and leant on the door too. 

“I need to talk to you.” she mumbled, fidgeting nervously with her hands. Diego wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her nervous. Upset, yeah, but nervous... “You gonna get down on one knee?” he quipped, receiving a whack on the shoulder in return. He pretended to flinch in pain, even though he didn’t feel a thing - he just wanted to make her smile. It worked, a slight grin crossed her face momentarily. Diego found himself getting lost in her eyes again. “I can’t do...” she drawled, seeming to get lost right in his too. His heart began to beat like a drum as he felt how close they were. He knew now that her lips were so soft, flavored like candy...

His inhibitions slightly dulled, Diego decided to just bite the bullet and kiss her. Fooling around in the men’s room of a sanitarium was kind of batshit, but he supposed he was in the right place to be acting that way. As Diego made his move, Lila practically lunged on him - pinning him up against the door. Diego chuckled mid kiss, that was a new one for him, usually _he_ did that kind of thing. He should’ve expected as much from Lila. She ran her hands through his shaggy hair, and he began to run his hands down her back. Maybe this was a little risky, he thought.

Whilst they made out and their breathing grew heavier, Diego shuffled them away from the door so he could push it closed and turn the lock. This time he was holding Lila against it. He began to run his hands inside her starchy scrub shirt, leisurely making his way up her body as he pulled her shirt up. Lila had her hands running across the waist of his pants, sensually enough to make him briefly lose all of his breath. She began to slide his pants down, making him feel like a fucking idiot for being 29 and wearing elasticated-waist pants. Whatever, almost nothing could take his mind off Lila now.

Right as he began to mimic that action with Lila’s pants, she suddenly shoved him off from her. Diego was so taken aback he staggered backwards into the wall. “The fuck was that for?” he grunted, narrowing his eyes in complete bewilderment. What did he do?! He yanked his pants back up quickly, feeling embarrassed as hell. 

“I can’t do this.” Lila frantically blurted, pulling down her shirt that was halfway off. She turned around and hastily tried to unlock the door, struggling to do so in her apparent panic. Diego leaned over to unlock it for her, and she dodged out of his way awkwardly. “I’m just unlocking it...” he whispered to her in disbelief. She nodded bashfully and waited for him to step back before she rushed from the stall. “This isn’t what I’m here to do.” she regretfully exclaimed, running her hands down her face. “I mean, this isn’t what _we’re_ here to do.” she hastily corrected, peeling her hands back from her eyes. 

Diego tentatively stepped forward, holding his hands up like a goddamn convict. “Okay...” he placated “you’re here to get better.” he murmured gently, not expecting her to roll her eyes at that statement.

“Yeah, whatever.” she grumbled, turning on her heel to leave the restroom. “I’m sorry.” she muttered quietly before she opened the door. Lila sneakily checked the coast was clear before skulking back out into the communal room. _What in the fuck was that about?_ Diego wondered. He couldn’t even bring himself to move an inch, he was feeling too many things all at once. “Fuck.” Diego grunted, fiercely kicking the stall. He’d made such a goddamn mess of things, how could he cope without Lila? Could they still be friends? Diego hoped she was going to be okay as he shoved his forehead against the stall, trying to calm himself down. Maybe he could help her if she let him try. Why won’t she let him try? He’d seemingly lost the only two people keeping him going, all in one day - and both were his fault.


	17. Hero Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego finds the doctors at the sanitarium work on a rotation, leaving him with a new doctor with a different attitude. Lila and Diego begin the day awkwardly avoiding one another, but how will they end it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s taken me sooooooo long I’ve just not had time to write.
> 
> Next chapter is Lila’s POV ;)

Unwillingly going to their bunks for the night, Diego decided then and there that this was enough. The effort he’d been making to get out of this place just wasn’t cutting it. He needed to work hard, and he needed to work fast. 11.22.63 was growing closer and closer, and Diego wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of him stopping the assassination. Starting from tonight he was going to strenuously shave down the bars locking him in this hellhole. No more drugs, no more bullshit. Diego wasn’t going to end up with his brains scrambled like Richard.

—

Sitting awkwardly distanced from Lila after their weird-ass make out session, Diego still couldn’t stop thinking about her. Choosing to hide all of his pills under his tongue was risky since there were now so many, but so far this morning it had been successful. Maybe they’d prescribe less medication if he stopped losing it at these assholes. It was so hard to control his rage when they were treating him like this though. Coming off these pills cold turkey was making Diego shake even more than usual. They’d be out of his system soon. He could get through this, the horrific symptoms would die down.

“Diego, it’s your session.” the nurse who reminded Diego of mom kindly called, gesturing for him to enter the office. Grumpily standing, Diego gave Lila a fleeting glance on his way into the room. She didn’t look up from her drawing. She looked so goddamn dumb covered in that black charcoal, but in the best possible way.

Abruptly pausing when he entered the office, Diego wondered if he’d entered the wrong room. “You’re not my doctor, where’s Henderson?” Diego distrustingly asked, instinctively looking over his shoulder at the kind nurse. He had to keep reminding himself that she sadly wasn’t his mom. Seeing this nurse always just brought up the grief he was still feeling for her.

The doctor beckoned for him to sit, jarringly not smoking a cigarette like Nicholson. Trepidatiously obliging and slumping down, Diego narrowed his eyes at this man with suspicion. “The sanitarium works on a rotation basis, we doctors take turns in each unit.” Shit. Nicholson was the only semi-decent person here and now he was gone too?! What if this guy loves sticking things in people’s brains?! “When will Nicholson come back?!” Diego anxiously snapped, not feeling up to this considering how he was feeling both mentally and physically.

“Who’s to say?” the doctor jokingly replied, like this was all a big game. “Anyway, I’m Doctor Moncton.” he introduced himself, holding a hand out for Diego to shake. Diego refused, staring at his hand with contempt. Moncton snickered in response, sauntering to behind the desk that was now his.

Flicking through Diego’s file, Moncton looked at several sheets with scrutiny. “So I’ve had a look over your file, and I think we have a pretty clear multitude of diagnoses.” Moncton calmly declared, making Diego even more enraged. There was nothing to goddamn diagnose! He wasn’t insane. Manically bouncing his foot to try and prevent lashing out, Diego couldn’t bring himself to speak to this guy. Literally. The words wouldn’t come out. “Have you heard of a hero complex, Diego?” Moncton patronisingly questioned, which was terrible because that meant Diego was supposed to speak.

“I-... I d-d-d.” bashfully closing his mouth, Diego decided to give up on his attempt. All that would come out were embarrassing choking noises. Moncton handed him a sheet of paper and a pen, which was actually pretty helpful, but Diego still felt he was an asshole. _I don’t have a hero complex, I’m literally a superhero._ Diego shakily wrote down, struggling to make the writing legible with his tremors. What were even in those pills? It was unbelievably frustrating to be told his entire life wasn’t real. Again and again and again. That gaslighting still made doubts crop up in his mind now and then. The horrible tattoo on his arm was enough to assure him the Umbrella Academy was painfully real. 

Moncton took back the sheet and had the audacity to smirk. “That’s exactly what someone with a hero complex would say.” he smugly uttered, sliding the paper into the file as some kind of fucked up evidence. Giving his new doctor the finger, Diego felt this was an excellent substitute for telling him to fuck all the way off. Goddamn this place. “That leads me to another thing. You’re uncontrollably combative and have _huge_ issues with authority.” Moncton’s face showed no empathy when he spoke, only sterile and clinical observance. “You have a textbook case of antisocial personality disturbance.” the doctor boldly remarked, seeming very proud of himself for this bullshit diagnosis.

Trying to tell him to fuck off once again, Diego clenched his shaking fists when nothing came out. “Along with your paranoid delusions, I think it’s clear the sanitarium is the most appropriate place for you for the foreseeable future. For the safety of you and the general public.” Moncton continued his mumbo jumbo quack bullshit. Diego repeated over and over in his head that it didn’t matter what this asshole said. He was going to escape. There was a way out for him, whether this stuffy doctor thought so or not. Snatching a piece of paper and the pen back, Diego angrily scrawled _I save people, I don’t hurt them._ The whole reason he was here was because he was trying to save the world.

—

Nervously approaching Lila in the cafeteria, Diego sat beside her on the bench. Leaving a significant gap between them. “You look bloody horrible, it’s actually putting me off my food.” Lila playfully teased, as if nothing had happened between them. Tightly furrowing his brow, Diego wondered if he’d ever be able to understand this woman. She was so hot and cold, it was disorientating. Especially since Diego could barely recall most of the time he’d been here, since they’d had him so drugged up. Unfortunately though, he could remember the awkwardness of yesterday’s encounter fairly well.

“I c-can’t re-remember a lot of...” Diego huffed, giving himself a moment to try and think of mom’s advice. “...wh-what’s happened.” he admitted, picturing the words in his mind. There were many incoherent and blurry memories splattered throughout Diego’s stressed mind, but it was difficult to place them into a sensical series of recollections. It was alarming that he’d done things that he wasn’t even aware of. That didn’t feel good, it felt really goddamn shitty. Like parts of himself had been erased. Just like poor Vanya... she deserved so much better from them all.

To be honest, all Diego could focus on was JFK. That man was overbearing in his mind. Clearly Diego had landed here for a reason, there wasn’t a possibility that this was a coincidence. Although Diego had the inkling he’d developed a theory about the assassination, he was completely unable to remember it. Man, those drugs were probably enough to knock out an elephant. It didn’t matter anymore, they’d be out of his body soon and he could place his whole attention on JFK. Saving him would definitely save the world. It was all linked.

Lila snorted and lightly slapped Diego on the cheek with a rasher of bacon - which was utterly disgusting. Once again, what in the hell did that mean? “Y’know what?” Lila murmured in a profound tone, looking at Diego’s hair with a mesmerised expression. “With that hair you remind me of An-“ Lila suddenly shoved the bacon into her mouth, as if she was trying to shut herself up. Diego gave her a face of pure confusion, very intrigued by what the end of that sentence was going to be. She just got weirder by the day. “It’s a British guy, you wouldn’t know him.” Lila mumbled through a mouthful of bacon, mischievously beginning to play footsie under the table. That little game was wholeheartedly welcomed by Diego.

“I take it he’s a co-cool British guy.” Diego cockily drawled, relieved to be back to normal with Lila again. Not that her normal was actually normal, it was absolutely batshit. Diego liked it though. He might even love it. Could he just escape and leave her behind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn’t very long but there’ll be another soon. Obvs things are starting to line up with canon.


	18. Really, Mum?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LILA POV:
> 
> That’s all I’m saying ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting this chapter today too bc it’s pre-written so why not?

Entering the women’s loo, Lila heard the distinctive sound of a message from the commission. Following the noise, Lila found it located in the toilet’s system. Which was bloody gross. “Really, mum?” she complained to herself, shaking off the water. At least it hadn’t been in the toilet bowl itself, that would’ve been rank. Some of the metallic sheen came off on Lila’s hand, which was incredibly confusing. The commission must’ve really cut down on costs. It was probably that bastard Five’s fault. 

The scroll read _“Keep close eye on Diego. Talk soon.”_ Great. How long exactly was she going to leave Lila stranded in a looney bin? Truthfully... if it meant she got to spend time with Diego, Lila was willing to accept it. Mum would definitely step in before they could shove shit in her brain anyway. She’d never put Lila in proper danger. Walking across the room to put it in the bin, Lila felt unimpressed with having to do this like normal people. She was used to nicking Diego’s power now, throwing things into the bin was way more fun than actually having to make the effort to walk there. That was even more reason to stick to Diego like glue.

—

It was pretty entertaining for Lila that Diego couldn’t remember telling her he was escaping, and full on inviting her to join. Those drugs looked bloody fun, it was a shame mum wouldn’t let her take any of them. “He reckons you’re mental.” Lila whispered to Diego in group, purely to stir things up. It was really boring in here, they had to make their own entertainment. Whispering in his ear also made him breathe all heavy, which was something that satisfied Lila.

“‘e reckons yaw mentohl.” Diego mockingly whispered back in an atrocious British accent. He sounded like the Artful Dodger, except he’d had a stroke. “Don’t quit your day job.” Lila tauntingly murmured, wiping charcoal on Diego’s white scrubs just to wind him up. He looked outraged, which was hilarious considering they were hospital scrubs. 

A cigarette was pulled from her hand and thrown out of the slightest crack allowed in the window. Well, Diego probably meant for it to go out of the window but he actually missed and threw it to the floor. Clearly he still had some drugs in his system. It had been alluring for Lila to make the cigarette turn mid air and fly back into her hand, but that would give the whole game away.

Shit, Diego was going to be so bloody hurt when he found out the truth. Lila had come onto this assignment because that was her job, but it had quickly come to mean more than that. Diego had come to mean more to her than just a mark. What if mum wanted him dead at some point? That wasn’t too unlikely. There was no chance Lila could make herself kill Diego. But she’d have to. That was how the job worked. It wasn’t easy having your mum as your boss. Not only was it getting harder to lie to Diego, it was also getting harder to prevent shagging him.

“Tell him about the talking chimpanzee.” Lila addressed Diego, purposefully in a volume loud enough for Moncton to hear. The look of sheer mortification on Diego’s face was brilliant. If only Lila had had a camera to capture that image. Chuckling with glee, Lila couldn’t wait for this discussion to start.

Moncton cleared his throat and looked to Lila disdainfully, unhappy with her disrupting the boring moping group. He then turned his attention to Diego, his curiosity apparently caught by the chimp called Pongo, or something. “A talking chimpanzee, Diego?” Moncton clicked his pen, readying himself to take bitchy notes. Reading them would be enthralling, maybe Lila would have to break in and get her hands on them. Not just Diego’s notes, every one of these nutters’. They’d have so much drama in them, it’d be great. 

“Well, he uh...” Diego gave her a petty side eye “...yeah, he’s a chimpanzee and he talks, but there’s more to it than that.” Diego appallingly explained, just making himself sound even more loopy. Moncton raised an eyebrow, jotting away on his clipboard. “It’s not crazy, it’s not. My dad was an inventor, he gave Pogo a human brain... or something.” Diego vaguely mumbled, seeming to know almost nothing about the notorious Pongo’s origin story. How could you be brought up with a fucking talking chimp and not ask questions?

“What do you think that means, Diego?” Moncton hit him with the Freudian bullshit, thinking he was really onto some deep meaning. Arsehole. “I think it means he’s a bloody monkey who talks.” Lila spoke for Diego when he looked lost for words. To be fair, the whole Pongo thing was arguably even more mental than having a robot mother. It was understandable that Moncton thought he was cuckoo.

Receiving a disapproving glance from Diego, Lila giggled at his annoyance. “He’s a _chimp_.” Diego rebukingly clarified, as if that made all the difference. “Oh, well in that case it makes perfect sense.” Lila sarcastically remarked, trying to force him to laugh or at the very least smile. Seeing him all gloomy brought on an emotion that Lila didn’t think she was capable of. Empathy. The presence of that feeling would definitely make life tricky for her.

—

Obnoxiously grinning at the bloke who apparently replaced her doctor Henderson, Lila couldn’t wait for this. “So Lila... how do you think you’re recovering?” Doctor Thomson nervously inquired, freaked out by her intense smiling.

“Really good! Except...” Lila tilted her head side to side, trying to choose what film to reference this time. “When I close my eyes...” Lila put on an act of pure distress. “I see a tornado.” she thoughtfully whispered, building up a nice amount of tension. Thomson nodded, falling for this hook line and sinker. “But the tornado isn’t a _normal_ tornado.” Lila dramatically made that clear, drawing the doctor in even further. “Do you know what it’s made of, Doctor Thomson?” Lila murmured with a tone of horror. He shook his head, seeming anxious about what it was going to be. “Guess.” she bossily demanded, not wanting this fun to be over with yet.

The doctor opened his mouth and neglected to utter a word. “I...” he uncertainly shrugged, looking like a spooked cat. One loud noise and he’d probably shoot through the air.

“Sharks!” Lila vehemently yelled, violently gesturing towards him as if she were throwing the sharknado his way.

—

Forcing Diego to play a game of cards that she was just making up on the spot, Lila decided it was time she gathered more intel. Mum had been pestering her with scroll after scroll going on about his weird superhero family. “Your brothers and sisters, what’re their powers again?” Lila reticently asked, randomly removing a card from Diego. Why wasn’t he calling her out on this fake game? He must fancy her a lot to put up with this shit.

“Number One, Luther. Super strength, and he’s like... half ape or something.” Lila suddenly looked up from her cards, thrown by the last half of that. He certainly hadn’t mentioned a monkey brother before. “I don’t know, he wasn’t born like that. My dad gave him some DNA to save his life.” Diego nonchalantly drawled, like it was perfectly normal for your dad to give you ape DNA. Lila thought _her_ parent was weird...

”Any relation to Pongo the monkey by any chance?”

 _“Pogo_ , and he’s a goddamn chimp. No, no relation.”

“Does Luther look like a monkey?” That would be disgusting, but like a nasty car crash. Lila wouldn’t be able to look away. That sounded fun.

“Kinda, not his face though. Just his body, I guess.” Diego was halfway grimacing and halfway smirking at his statement.

There was one question really sticking out for Lila. “Is _all_ of his body like a monkey?” Lila crudely pointed towards Diego’s crotch.

Throwing his head in his hands like a drama queen, Diego groaned with disgust. That just made Lila cackle. “Number Three, Allison.” he hastily changed the subject. “It’s basically mind control, but she says this specific phrase.” Diego unhelpfully described, holding back on the key information.

“What phrase, you twat?!”

Diego rolled his eyes and shook his head, evidently trying not to laugh. “She says _I heard a rumor_.” Well that was interesting, that information had the ability to be very useful at a later date. Lila gestured for him to continue, giving him a card just to make him feel less cheated by this made up game.

“Number Four, Klaus... I don’t even know what he can do, it’s a long story. He could talk to dead people, but then before Vanya blew up the moon he made our dead brother able to _touch_ people, and his tentacles tore a bunch of guys apart.” There were millions of questions jumping into Lila’s head after that bonkers statement. The tentacles thing was still weird for Lila to grasp. Were they his like an octopus, or did they just pop out now and again? “I’m not crazy!” Diego defensively hissed, thinking she was disbelieving rather than intrigued.

That power could either be brilliant to borrow, or crap. Diego’s description of it had been too shit to choose either way. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.” Lila dryly quipped, arbitrarily removing some of Diego’s cards. “So hypothetically, if Claude-“

“ _Klaus_.” Diego curtly corrected her, like she hadn’t been getting his name wrong just to take the piss.

“So if Clive wanted to get the ghost of Hitler could he?” Mum would love that, she had a little collection of Hitler artefacts. Diego seemed uncertain of the answer to this question. “Hypothetically.” Lila reiterated, keen to know what he thought.

“I guess? I don’t know, I don’t even think he knows. He always said the ghosts were scary.” Diego shrugged, not giving out any more information. Well shit, that was boring. Deciding to skip out on that power if they ever met, Lila gave Diego some of her cards just for the hell of it.

Now this next one, this was the key part. Number Five was a little rat in the commission, he needed to be stamped out. That’s what mum had made crystal clear. “Number Five, Five. Don’t ask, I don’t know why he didn’t want a name.” That summed that stubborn shit head up pretty well. “He can spatial jump, and in theory he can time travel, but it doesn’t end well.” That was nothing Lila didn’t already know. That idiot got stranded in the apocalypse for 45 years.

“Tell me more about the spatial jumps.” Lila engrossedly requested, wanting to know all his little tricks. No one would know better than his own sibling.

“I don’t goddamn know, he starts in one place and ends up another.” Diego brashly replied, clearly grouchy from his plot to go cold turkey. Lila gave him several more cards in an attempt to appease him. Diego sighed and shuffled the cards around, purely because Lila was also doing that. None of it meant anything. “He gets stuck. He can only do it so many times, like he has a limit.” Hm, that was without a doubt handy to know. Lila would have to keep that in mind if she ever met the weasel. That’s if mum stopped giving her shit assignments.

Melancholy crossed Diego’s face as he thought about his departed brother. “Number Six, Ben. He had... or _has_ a kinda portal in his chest, he could release monsters out of it. Most of the time it was tentacles.” Ew, that was bloody revolting. Lila was going to well and truly steer clear of that one. There was nothing to say she could mirror a ghost’s power anyway. At least she knew he wasn’t part octopus now. That wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility, given Number One’s monkey blood.

“Tell me about the one who blew up the moon.” This one was likely much more important than Five. She had the capability to destroy all life on Earth, and that was only in a matter of minutes. What could she be capable of in hours, days? Her power would be wicked to mirror, there would be so many ways for Lila to establish dominance. They could have a proper fight, like something out of a comic book.

“Number Seven, Vanya.” Diego sounded depressed to be talking about her. “None of us knew she had a power, not even her. Apparently it’s to do with sound, and her emotions. Allison managed to stop her killing us by firing a gun beside her ear, but that’s also what made her blow up the moon.” Well, well, well. That was some excellent intelligence to gain. Sound, and emotions. Lila would have to keep that in mind. She better meet Vanya one day, just to have a go on her apocalyptic proportioned power.

Sliding over the jello they were playing for, Lila decided to let Diego win the meaningless game. He deserved it after that cracking interview. Poor bloke didn’t even know he’d sold his beloved family down the river. This empathy was really niggling at Lila... she hated it. Life was so much easier without it. Guilt was no help to her, and neither was love. No matter what she did, she couldn’t fully get rid of either of those feelings though. Not when it came to Diego.


	19. Sandwich Short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lila’s POV again, nearing closer to Five’s visit at the sanitarium

_Be ready, little one._ the scroll in Lila’s hands read. What the hell did that mean? It was obviously some form of danger, but specifically what? If it was Five, she needed to know. The little turd could teleport. Lila rolled her eyes and pulled out a stolen pen from her waistband.

 _Thanks for that advice, but I might need a little more information, don’t you think?_ she wrote, growing tired of this weird secrecy. The commission were never normally this cagey. Lila rolled the scroll up to send back, but paused before putting it into the tube. She opened it back up, and scribbled out her message. Back-talking mum was playing with fire, to say the least. _Ok. Love you._ she jotted, then rolled the scroll up and placed it into the tube. Checking nobody was around, Lila opened the locker door again and sent the message to The Handler. Mum never said love you back, she meant it though... she had to.

—

“Bet you a pack of fags that she goes on about your daddy issues.” Lila whispered to Diego as the topic of the group approached him. He leaned away from her slightly, staring at her with disbelief.

“The hell did you just say to me?” he jokingly murmured, looking her up and down. Lila gently smacked his arm, and he pretended like it hurt. The joke was on him, Lila could quite easily break his arm straight in half if she truly wanted to. She could also shatter the bone into a million tiny pieces, he’d have to get one of those metal cages built around it.

The fake hiss of pain Diego made drew the nurse’s attention to them, so they both sheepishly looked away from one another. Their chairs were still suspiciously close. The nurse threateningly glared at them, then continued talking to the patient she was psychoanalysing. “You know it means cigarettes, you yank.” Lila retorted under her breath.

“I don’t smoke, you... Brit.” Wow, that hurt. Deep to the core. Lila mimed being stabbed in the heart, since that insult was unbelievably pathetic. Diego cleared his throat to cover up his laughter. “Shut the hell up before we get in trouble.” he whispered, sounding like they were naughty school children.

“What’re they gonna do? Give you detention?” Lila quipped, raising her volume slightly purely to make Diego nervous. He shot her a filthy look and moved his chair closer to the guy to his other side. “Really? You’re leaving me for _him?!_ ” Lila mouthed with mock offence. Diego subtly gave her the finger and then focused all of his attention on the nurse, acting uncharacteristically well behaved. Hmm.

—

Politely taking her concoction of pills, Lila flounced over to Diego and sat herself beside him. Then shot them out of her mouth, at his face. With perfect aim, obviously. “This is why you’re in a sanitarium.” Diego remarked with a frown, though his eyes were smiling.

“Nah, it’s ‘cause...” Lila leaned into Diego for dramatic effect, since she’d never actually told him why she was supposedly in a looney bin. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation, probably dying to hear this. “...I got caught trying to shoot Kennedy in the head.” she whispered in an inappropriately seductive tone. 

Diego rolled his eyes and shuffled his chair further away from Lila. Again. He might be more in love with JFK than he was with Lila. That’s just daft, Lila had way more going for her than JFK. “It’s not funny, I’m gonna stop it.” Diego muttered, attempting to use charcoal to draw with. He was being much too precious with it, afraid to get it on his scrubs. He really was a mummy’s boy. “I haven’t been restrained in days, they’re gonna release me.” he cockily predicted, not quite understanding the 1963 approach to mental illness. 

“I think they’re a bit worried that you might murder that bloke...” Lila paused to remind herself that she shouldn’t know the name Lee Harvey Oswald. That would be bloody great, if she blew her cover after all of this time. “The one who you think’s gonna kill JFK.” Although Lila loved Diego, she sensed that he still wouldn’t realise anything was amiss if she slipped up. He was a sandwich short of a picnic. 

The suggestion of murder made Diego look deeply offended, like a little baby. For someone who carried knives around so much, he didn’t like to properly use them. “I’m not a psychopath, I’m protecting the president.” Diego drawled, giving up with his charcoal drawing. Lila tilted her head to see his attempt, and wasn’t surprised to find a drawing of a knife. 

“Yeah, you’re definitely not a psychopath...” Lila sarcastically muttered, looking down at the drawing of a dangerous weapon. Diego’s eyes grew wide and he quickly scrunched the paper into a ball, throwing it into the bin across the room. It was good that he wasn’t genuinely a psychopath, as he had an idiotic method for disposing of evidence. “Why’d you wanna protect Kennedy, anyway? I know he’s fit and everything, but what’s so good about him? He’s not even your president, you’ve got-“ shit, would she really remember the name Obama just from the time Diego had mentioned him? “Osama.” That would’ve been quite a different America.

A flash of despair crossed Diego’s face as he recalled who the real president was in 2019. “ _Obama_ isn’t president anymore.” You can say that again... Lila made a noise of surprise, like the solid actress she was. “And it isn’t about that shit, it’s not about politics. He’s an innocent man, and his death has to be connected to why I landed when I did. I’m here to save Kennedy, I _know_ it.” Diego passionately explained, sounding every bit as unhinged as the doctors claimed. It was slightly concerning for Lila, in all honesty. This place certainly wasn’t helping with his unhealthy obsession. 

“Could just be a coincidence though, couldn’t it.” Lila nonchalantly replied, fairly certain that it was in fact a complete and utter coincidence. Mum definitely hadn’t mentioned anything to do with JFK’s assassination, this mission was solely down to the little shit, Number Five and his idiot siblings. Besides Diego. He was still an idiot, but Lila had no intention to kill him. The thought of being instructed to hurt Diego was more worrying every day. “Like, this one time, the tele was flickering every time I blinked, and I thought it was my brain doing it. Turns out it wasn’t, it was just a dodgy cable. Funny, innit?” she chuckled, throwing a hand up. Suddenly, Lila’s blood ran cool when she realised that her lie was loosely based on a Friends episode she’d once watched. Shit! 

He narrowed his eyes at Lila, making her even more unnerved. Mum was going to tear a strip out of Lila if she messed up this whole mission because of a bloody Friends episode. “You really think these two situations are comparable, for real?” Diego mockingly murmured, apparently not a Friends fan. Thank god. “I’m talking about the president getting assassinated, and you wanna tell me about the time your TV broke?” he dryly asked with a quirked brow, the brow with the scar in. Lila liked that one.

“No, course not.” Lila scoffed, lighting a cigarette. She didn’t ordinarily smoke, she was merely immersing herself in the ‘60s. Full on method acting, like Damien Day Lewis. She deserved an Oscar, really. “The TV wasn’t broken, it was the cable.” she deadpanned, making Diego evidently stifle laughter. “...You’re shit out of luck, Diego. They’re not letting you out of here.” The only way out was an escape, which sounded exciting. Lila couldn’t wait, it’d be like living out a film. 

“They’re not gonna keep me in here if they think I’m getting better, if I’m engaging with the treatment.” Diego asserted, repeatedly prodding the table to emphasise his words. Lila gave him a humorously cynical look, not seeing him getting discharged for the foreseeable future.

She removed her plimsole and placed her cigarette between her socked toes, wanting to maintain the illusion of mental instability. Diego grimaced, but didn’t say anything about it. Yet more proof that he loved her too much to see sense, that would be useful later. “You keep talking about the president getting his head blown off, and you know this ‘cause you’re from the future. Oh, and-“ Lila reached for the charcoal and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper. This paper would be a nice weapon if thrown at the right angle... she’d log that thought for later use. She began to write down a list of Diego’s weirdest claims.

Immaculate conception

Superhero

Talking monkey “He’s a goddamn chimp.” Diego complained, like it made all the difference. Fine.

Talking ~~monkey~~ chimp she corrected, only to appease him. Shit, she forgot about the cigarette. Lila hastily picked it up before it could burn through her sock, and then took a drag. 

Robot mum “No offence, I’m sure she’s lovely.” Lila sweetly stated, patting Diego on the cheek. He tried to scowl at the charcoal she left in her wake, though he couldn’t hide his smirk. He looked a bit like a chimney sweep, it was adorable.

Sister blew up the moon

Old man schoolboy Lila tried not to show her hatred for Five on her face as she wrote that. 

Black president there was nothing wrong with the last line, but the white doctors of 1963 would certainly think there was. Lila held the piece of paper up as if it were a manifesto, though she modelled it better than any politician would. “You see what I mean? It’s all a bit mental, Diego.” Lila apologetically remarked, having the paper taken from her hands by a nosy orderly. “Oi!”

The orderly read the paper with a blank expression, then looked between Lila and Diego. “Black president?” he incredulously questioned, as if that was the most deranged claim. “Like, a negro?” he continued, making it so much worse. The toothpick resting between his lips really completed the look. 

“I dunno, it’s her.” Diego shiftily shrugged and pointed at Lila, clearly serious about trying to seem less insane. The orderly scoffed and passed the sheet back to Lila, who had strategically placed her foot on top of the pills she’d spat out earlier. 

“Cheers for that, dickhead!” Lila exclaimed once the orderly had sauntered away, on the verge of laughter. Diego snickered, then cracked his knuckles. He often sounded like a bowl of Rice Krispies.

After he’d finished snapping, crackling, and popping, Diego leaned in closer. Close enough to kiss, Lila would bet money that he was thinking about that too. “I wanted to punch that asshole for being racist, but I didn’t. See?” What was Lila supposed to be seeing? She wasn’t sure. All she could see in front of her was a man-child, who she was hopelessly falling for. “They think I’m getting better. I got this. I’m saving JFK.” It’s a good job mum had ordered her to stick to Diego like glue, he was an utter idiot. Forget a sandwich short of a picnic, he’d turned up to the picnic with nothing but a blanket.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I’ll update as soon as I can! I just want to take care with the ending.


End file.
